Author's Notes: Surprise surprise! Here are two more chapters to this story, an alternative ending to this.

'Why?' you ask, and that is a very good question. Nobody asked for it, nobody got huffed up or angry about the ending I wrote but quite the contrary, everyone was exceedingly polite and understanding. So why?

Well, simply just because I wanted it and was curious about how it could have played out differently…How would a fanfiction of the fanfiction work out? And being the writer, I was in a privileged position to do what I wanted! Besides, I am not a stranger for alternative endings; 'A Premediated Union' was an alternative ending to 'A Chance Encounter', and one of my earlier fics in LJ, 'Desperately, Madly' also had two different endings.

So here is fanfic of my fanfic – starting from Chapter 7 in 'fic canon' where Sansa returns to visit Sandor for the third night, after she had suggested him to join her in her estates.


NEW XX – "It makes an enormous difference."

She arrived before midnight – as he had known she would.

Sandor had not undressed but lay in his bed in his clothes. He had smothered the fire and lit no candles, but when he heard the soft footsteps and the soft creak of the front door he waited until she slipped beside him before speaking.

"Sansa."

"You knew I was coming, didn't you?" There was lightness in her tone and she snuggled next to him – only to draw back when she realised that he was clothed.

"We must talk."

"Of course we must talk. That and..." She tugged the hem of his tunic, not quite as boldly as attempting to remove it, but the hint was there.

Sandor had concluded that it would not be fair to let things go any further before he told her what was in his mind. How things were not as easy as she assumed then to be.

"Your suggestion is as foolish today as it was yesterday. Things are not that simple - I can't just up and go with you like that."

There. He had said it.

Sansa inhaled sharply but didn't say anything.

"Did you hear me?"

"I heard you," Sansa said. Her tone was calm but her hand had stopped moving. "Why would you say it, though?"

"It is my whole life we are talking about. And your life is not mine, it wasn't back then and it isn't now."

"Your life is yours, that much is true." Sansa sighed and turned on her back. She stared at the ceiling for a long while, so long that Sandor thought she was altogether done with talking to him.

"You say you can't – or you won't?" Her voice was low.

"What difference does it make?"

"It makes an enormous difference." She turned to look at him. "What is it that keeps you here?"

"I am comfortable here and people accept me even though they know of my past. It is not the same elsewhere - country folk still tell their children that if they don't behave the Hound will come and take them away. And although I may not be the same man I was then, my face has not changed."

"That does not keep you here – it only keeps you way from other places. There has to be more."

Sandor had thought nothing else since her suggestion but unfortunately, the answer was not quite as straightforward as he would have wanted it to be. In one moment the truth had been clear; after seeing her and having learned that his long-held secret dream had by some miracle come alive after all these years, there had simply been no other option but to follow her.

Then a moment later a different truth had emerged; he had looked around his hut and felt the satisfaction and safety of his current life. He had thought of Mistress Martha and her warmth and the miller's widow and the ease with which they enjoyed each other's company when they needed it. He had remembered the old man and his son with whom he used to go fishing, and the farmer's son who helped him in his workroom and the enjoyment he felt in seeing the optimism and enthusiasm of youth through his eyes. And then there was Doctor Elder in his messy rooms – how could he leave all of that behind? Sansa's world was that of nobility who did not consort with commoners - and he was not going to be part of that world but left to fight his battles with his fellowmen once more. And he was tired of it.

"I have my work here." He swept his hand towards the direction of his workroom. "I have people around me, people I care about."

"Who are those people? Who do you not want to leave?"

Sandor named the first few who came to his mind. Doctor Elder, his fishing companion and his son, the young man who wanted to apprentice to him. He told her about Mistress Martha but stayed silent about the miller's widow.

Sansa listened, and after he stopped, nodded her head. "Take them with you. I have enough space for all of them."

Sandor's mouth fell open.

"I can't ask them that!"

'Why can't you? Do you mean to tell me that none of them would take the opportunity for a new life, especially the young ones? This farmer's boy – you say he would like to learn your trade but he is needed in the fields. If I would pay for his apprenticeship and compensate his parents for the loss of his labour, would he not jump at the opportunity? The other boy could be your servant. Mistress Martha could be your housekeeper. Doctor Elder could come too – but if he doesn't want to, he could visit us – often. I have requested his services regularly for my son in case, and he has already agreed to visit us when we need him."

She sat up, hugging her knees, talking animatedly. Sandor could only stare at her in amazement, the way her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkled.

"You wouldn't be coming into my estates as a beggar, or as a charity case. No, you are a highly skilled tradesman and you would arrive in a fine carriage, in fine clothes, with your workshop in wagons and your own people in tow. I would give you the money – borrow if you prefer, and you could pay me back from your earnings. I would be lucky to have a man like you working in my estates, and that's how people would see it. If I learned something from Petyr Baelish, it is that people see what you want them to see if you are determined enough."

Sandor shook his head. He, a man with a household and servants; who'd ever heard anything so ridiculous?

"They would still find out who I am."

"Yes, who you are – not the man you used to be. Do you think you are the only one with a dark past? Recent years have seen many men transformed, some for worse and some for better. And yet even the biggest sinner is forgiven if he changes his ways – as you have done."

Sansa touched his shoulder, lightly, but to Sandor it was as if a live spark would have flowed from her to him.

"I understand it was hard for you here at first – you rebelled, you fought against it, you alienated people in your transition from your old world of violence to this new world of tolerance. Yet that is all in the past. And your people, those who know you as you are now, would help you to adjust to the life in the new place."

Despite his reluctance, Sandor had to admit there was some sense in what she said. Yet, what if he could uproot himself and move to a new place – it would still not solve the issue of what would be between them. Or rather, what could not be.

"Be it so, maybe. But what good would it do for you – for us?"

"Us" was still a strange word in his tongue, like a taste never experienced before, the taste of which he was not sure whether he should get used to.

"You think you want this – but I think I know what you really want."

He had reached the conclusion when trying to understand what could make a lady like Sansa to even contemplate a future with a man like him. His realisation had hit him hard but once he had thought of it, he knew he couldn't hide the truth – not from himself and not from her.

"I know what I want. I want you."

"So you say, and maybe even think it is true. But what you really want is someone who wants you because of who you are, not what you are. Someone who doesn't see you as a good catch or a fulfilment of their twisted fantasies. Just you." Sandor watched her sharply. He wanted to catch the moment when she realised the truth of his words – and her own folly.

And the end of his dreams.

"What if I do - doesn't everyone? How is that news?"

"It may be so. But not everyone has been betrothed to a monster, married twice to men not of their choosing and preyed upon by a man to whom you were just an image of your mother. The prince, Lannister, Baelish and this Hardyng. No surprise that you are confused and are ready to settle for less than what you deserve."

Sandor wondered if she'd shy away if he would touch her. He knew his words were harsh and probably not something a woman who had just offered herself to a man might expect. He truly didn't want to hurt her with his words, but he couldn't shy away from reality either. And yet when he looked at her he felt great affection and warmth, and something more, something he didn't deserve.

He touched the crown of her head and slid his fingers down following the line of her cheek.

She didn't shy away.


NEW XXI – "I know what I want – do you?"

Yet she wasn't placated quite so easily.

"What is it that you mean to say?" Sansa demanded, her eyes narrowed. "What makes you think I would be settling for less than I deserve?"

Sandor kept on stroking her hair, almost chastely.

"You think that I care for you. And I do. But I may not be the only one; there will be others, men from your world." It hurt to say it, but it was a right thing to do.

"Maybe so. But I don't want another. I am sick and tired of suitors at my door, men whose motives I don't know and of whom I have to wonder what it is that they truly want." She was animated, gesturing into thin air. Lilburne, who had followed her into the room and then settled on the floor, got up and let out a cautious 'woof'.

Sandor didn't let go.

"How do you know what it is that I want? You knew me once, long time ago, and then you walk into my life for a few days. Is that enough for you to understand what you would get yourself into with me?"

Sansa huffed, part desperate, part angry. Still, she didn't push him away or flinch at his touch.

"It is, for me it is. If it is not for you, however, I understand. But don't use me as an excuse for your own doubts. I know what I want – do you?"

That stopped Sandor. He had been so focused on making Sansa understand her choices that he had forgotten about his own. Yes, he had concluded that his peace of mind and his life was important, and thinking he would lose it had prevented him seeing Sansa's suggestion as a viable way forward. Yet, if he could do that… and have her… even if not fully.

Could he settle for pieces, for stolen moments and secret trysts?

What happened next, surprised him. Sansa, after lying still for a long time waiting for him to digest her words, laid down again and inched closer, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"You don't have to answer now. Think about it. I accept that asking you to uproot yourself from everything you have made of your life is selfish," she whispered against his throat, just where his beard morphed with the hair on his chest.

Sandor patted him awkwardly on the back. The certainty he had reached after hours of contemplation had vanished and he was dizzy, his head swimming in possibilities that had reopened in front of him. He was also exceedingly conscious of her proximity and the sensations it caused. He had assumed that she would leave as soon as they had had their talk, and to have her lingering so close was disconcerting.

"I can't ask you to… I haven't said I will accept your offer," he uttered, subtly untangling himself from her grip. Surely she would get up and leave at any moment?

"I don't care. I wish you will, but I accept if you don't." She nuzzled against him, her hand slipping under his shirt – and there was nothing chaste in that. "But in either case, I am leaving tomorrow. If you are not following me, this time is all we have. You and me."

Sandor was still unsure – how could she give herself to him if he was to turn her down later? – but he didn't spend too much time lingering over it.

He wanted.

Still, he wanted.