A Matter of Honor

Podrick looks anxiously between Jon and Lord Celtigar, a sudden realization seizing him. Following the men out of Jon's solar, the young ranger boldly steps in front of the group, bringing the men to an abrupt halt. "Out of my way boy," the lord snaps, moving around Pod and continuing on his way.

"My lord, I am certain the Lord Commander would wish me to assist you."

Understanding Pod's alarm, Jon follows them and steps before the group of soldiers. "You men, take Podrick and our maester Samwell with you. It's easy enough to get lost after dark and there are all sorts of unpleasant things roaming these woods. I want a full account of all dealings, Rangers, as you as you finish."

Sighing, the angry young lord assents, jerking his chin for them to follow. Walking a respectable distance behind the soldiers, Pod nonchalantly whispers to Sam. "I believe he's determined Lady Sansa will see him. I fear for her safety with these men. Regardless of what we think of him, we must help Clegane any way we can, for her sake."

"You think we should help Sandor Clegane? Hah! I'd like to see the day that man needs help from us! These Baratheon soldiers will need an undertaker after he's through with them."

Snickering, Pod nods in agreement. "Have you seen him in the practice yard with the Free folk men of a morning?"

Sam whistles low. "And that big black horse of his is every bit as mean as he is, too."

Pod gravely agrees. "Most of the rangers don't have the stomach to face him, either. I used to watch him spar in King's Landing and he routinely beat every man to a pulp except his brother. They didn't call him the Hound for nothing."

Lord Celtigar overhears the conversation and quickly turns to face the two men. "What do you two men know of this Sandor Clegane? You there, speak up."

Pod glances sideways at Sam. "My lord, I am sure I don't know how this pertains to the Lord Commander's orders."

"You Northmen certainly stick together, damn you. I resent such a lowborn man from an upstart house as Clegane treating the lady meant to be my wife as his personal property."

The two rangers exchange glances before Podrick hesitantly replies. "Neither Sandor Clegane nor I are Northmen, my lord. We are both Westermen from minor houses and two more different men you could hardly find. To answer your question, Clegane is Lady Sansa's sworn shield. I have known the man most of my life and I personally saw him fight at the battle of the Blackwater. I assure you that no man can withstand him, either here or in King's Landing. The only man I ever saw that was his equal in battle is his deceased brother. If you don't mind me saying so, my lord, it would be wise to deal with him accordingly."

"Bah! I have yet to fear any man and I am not about to start now," Lord Celtigar begins haughtily, only to be interrupted by Sam snorting derisively.

"Forgive me, my lord but clearly you haven't met many men beyond the highborns you keep company with. You'll find there's a different breed of men up here."

Podrick wonders at Lord Celtigar's intelligence, if he unable or unwilling to assess the danger in other men. If not for Lord Stannis, he would be dead in no time, of that he is certain. A Baratheon soldier steps forward, clearly angered. "Do you dare insult my lord?"

Ignoring the soldier, Pod retorts, "Please understand, we mean no disrespect. However, we are not green boys, my lord. Both Sam and I are battled tested. Knowing the man as we do, I advise you tread lightly. Believe me when I say Sandor Clegane is not like other men."

Scoffing, Lord Celtigar asks, "Won't he die if you strike him with a sword just like any other man?"

$Samwell shrugs, "A few have done that very thing and he did not die. He has come here a changed man. Make no mistake, the Hound may be buried within the man but you best believe he'll not hesitate to kill if Lady Sansa is threatened."

Lord Celtigar turns and confronts the men, angrily gripping his fists. "I have no intention of threatening her! And I care not to hear any more of what either of you Rangers think about this situation. As a lord from one of the most honorable houses in Westeros, I am owed an explanation from Lady Sansa. It is most insulting that after everything I was willing to overlook on her account I deserve at least to hear her reasons for refusal in person. After all she was wed to Lord Tyrion and then suspected of Joffrey's murder, not to mention the unusual arrangement in which she lived with Lord Baelish! She is most fortunate to have such an honorable proposal and gods be damned I will not be thrown over in this way."

Sighing, Samwell shakes his head. "If you will excuse me my lord, I have just recalled a pressing matter I need to attend. I trust you can handle it from here," he comments, raising his eyebrow at Pod.

"Very well then, go. We have no use for you anyway, Maester Tarly," Lord Celtigar barks and then moves toward the cabins. "Which way to Clegane?" he asks a passing Free folk woman, who shakes her head and continues on her way. The lord persists, only to be blocked by her husband's ax, preventing him from bothering her further.

"They will not cooperate with you, my lord. Clegane and Lady Sansa are of the Free folk now." Pod offers. "If you insist on doing this, follow me."


"Who in the Seven bloody hells is it?" Sandor loudly growls as he hurriedly fastens Sansa's dress.

"I wish to speak to Lady Sansa on a pressing matter."

Frowning, Sansa looks over her shoulder as Sandor fumbles with the lacings. "I believe it is Samwell Tarly, my love. Let us see what he wants."

Pulling his tunic and leather studded jerkin over his head, Sandor clutches his greatsword and heads for the door. Sansa draws his head down and kisses him softly before he opens it. "It's the maester all right. Is everything all right at Castle Black?"

"Yes, everything is fine. However, there is a matter of the lord who made Lady Sansa's offer of marriage-may I speak to you a moment?" Sam asks nervously.

"Come in Sam; what is it?" Sansa asks anxiously as Sandor steps aside to allow Sam's admittance.

"Lord Celtigar is on his way here as we speak. Pod and I have tried our best to discourage him but still he insists on speaking with you, my lady. He feels he was 'thrown over', to use his words. Since he's a lord, he feels he is owed an explanation."

"Does he now? Well, he's going to get more than he bargained for if he comes around here insisting anything, the buggering bastard." Sandor snarls low, allaying his anger by sharpening his sword.

"Thank you, Sam, for coming here to warn us. Perhaps you had better go back with Pod lest Jon think you neglected following his orders," Sansa says, opening the door.

"Alright my lady, that is most kind. I'll be back shortly."

Sandor stands at the door watching Sam disappear into the inky blackness of night. "I knew that little lord wouldn't let you go without a fight. The bloody pride of these arrogant, so-called honorable bastards is their downfall."

Sansa moves over to where Sandor is seated and holds his face in her hands, gently running her fingers through his beard. "Sandor, it would not matter if Stannis himself wanted to marry me. You are the only man I will ever love, the only one I wish to join myself to in every way," she whispers, kissing him softly.

"Sansa," he raps low. "We're to be wed. You're mine and gods forgive me, I'd fight the Warrior himself before I'll let anyone take you from me."

Smiling into his kiss, she soothingly runs her hands over his back. "No one will take me from you and you best believe no one will take you from me, either." Once again the couple is interrupted by a loud banging on the door.

Gritting his teeth, Sandor straps on his shortsword before brandishing his greatsword in his right hand. Opening the door, his eyes glitter with the familiar anger of the Hound as he glares at the men. "Who the fuck are you and what in Seven hells are you doing banging on my door after dark?"

"You must be Sandor Clegane, ser," Lord Celtigar begins, assessing the fearsome man before him.

Sandor ducks his head beneath the doorframe and steps out onto the porch, sword at the ready. "Fuck your sers. I'm no bloody knight, never was."

Lord Celtigar frowns at Sandor's harsh manner and coarse language. "You must be Sandor Clegane. I take umbrage at your disrespectful manner. I am Lord Adragon Celtigar of House Celtigar of Claw Island and I intend to speak with Sansa Stark."

Sandor looks the young lord over, his piercing gaze unnerving the demanding man. "Aye, I am Sandor Clegane. Do I look like I give a piss what you take umbrage with, little lord? You'll not speak to my lady unless she wishes it, understand?" Glancing over at the two rangers, Sandor gives them a wicked grin. "Payne, Tarly-what brings you men here? Everything all right at Castle Black?"

Sam nods, "Clegane, we've accompanied these men throughout the village in search of Baratheon soldiers harassing the local folk. The Lord Commander did not expect or intend for these men to come here and speak to his sister."

"That so? None were here today, although there were some soldiers that came pounding on the door last night looking to dishonor Sansa. Might be it was some of these men right here." Taking his time looking over each of the soldiers, Sandor barks out his harsh laugh, sounding like his snarling namesake more than ever. "So the Lord Commander sent you two along to make sure there wasn't a slaughter, is that it?" Turning to Lord Celtigar, Sandor leans in close, his voice rasping like steel scraping against stone. "State your business and be gone. I won't say it again."

Lord Celtigar squares his shoulders, resting his hand of the hilt of his sword. "Little lord, if you lay a hand on that weapon of yours around me, you best be ready to use it," Sandor growls, raising his sword to the man's throat. "Take that hand away or lose your head."

One of the Baratheon soldiers step forward, sword drawn. "You would dare threaten my lord in our presence ser?"

With one swift move Sandor slices through the man's pauldrons, ripping into the flesh of his sword arm. "Brave boy," Sandor spits out, scowling defiantly at the rest of the soldiers. "Consider that a warning. Anyone else feel like testing me?"

Carefully, Lord Celtigar slowly inches his hand away from his sword as Sam begins helping the wounded soldier. "I've not come here for swordplay. As I have already declared I wish to speak to Lady Sansa. I made her an honorable offer of marriage and was refused. Lord Commander Snow left me with no other explanation and I believe I am owed that much at least."

"Bugger that. Her brother gave you her answer and that's the end of it."

Pod steps forward, "Lord Celtigar, I'm certain it is an oversight but the Lord Commander stated to you and Lord Stannis that his sister's affections lie elsewhere." The cabin door creaks open and Sansa steps out onto the porch, placing her hand gently on Sandor's arm. "Lord Celtigar," she begins icily. "My sworn shield has made it clear your presence here is most unwelcome. My brother gave you my answer. If you insist on hearing it from my own mouth, I will oblige you."

"My dear Lady Sansa, I-" he begins and then abruptly stops, taken aback by the beautiful woman that Stannis meant to be his betrothed.

Holding up her hand, Sansa rebuffs the man's attempts at explanation. "To come here in such a manner is beneath the dignity of your house. I will reiterate my brother's words: I must refuse your offer of marriage. I am deeply in love with Sandor Clegane and will not be dissuaded." Looking up and Sandor she gives him a small smile and squeezes his arm. "He has asked me to marry him and I have accepted. We have yet to approach my brother with our engagement but since you interfered in our business I am compelled to tell you first."

Pod and Sam exchange grins as they watch Sansa deftly handle the arrogant lord.

"Forgive me, my lady but this is a matter of honor. You are from the first families of Westeros and it is unthinkable for your honor to be sullied by this man! You were not meant to be with-with…" the young lord sputters angrily, gesturing to Sandor.

"My honor?" Sansa laughs, the sound empty and humorless. "This from you, whose family bent the knee to Joffrey and yet now you serve Lord Stannis, the man who once waged war against your deceased king?" Stepping closer, Sansa glares at the man. "And you would be arrogant enough to say you know what is best for me, would you? You, who have never met me until this very moment," Sansa hisses, the wolf in her taking the men by surprise. "You men! Lord Stannis, Petyr Baelish, Joffrey-you are all alike! By virtue of your gender, you feel well within your rights demanding the ladies of your respective houses submit to any marriage you desire, so long as it cements your alliances!"

Sansa turns to Sandor and raises his hand to her lips, kissing him tenderly. Stunned, Sandor stares at her. Slowly his lips twitching into a grin, proud his Little bird so openly shows her affection for him in front of the men. "Is marrying for love only the providence of lowborn women? If so, then I would rather be thus. I love Sandor with all my heart and there is nothing I wish more than to be his wife. I will discuss this no further with any man besides my brother and my betrothed so be gone, all of you."

Turning to Pod and Sam, Sansa smiles and her tone and demeanor suddenly changes at the sight of her brother's men. "Not you my friends. Please forgive me. Won't the two of you come inside for a bit? I wish for you to toast our engagement!" With that Sansa gestures to the men with a smile and disappears inside the cabin with Sam and Pod following on her heels.

"You heard my lady. I'll give you one last chance to get the fuck off my property."

Quietly the soldiers watch Lord Celtigar, whose demeanor shows an unwillingness to back down. "Your lady? You have obviously bewitched her. What other explanation is there that a woman such as Lady Sansa could forget herself so easily? She owes it to her family and the north to control herself, not choose a husband out of some misplaced affection. Regardless of her feelings, it is altogether presumptuous to speak for her considering you have not discussed your engagement with her brother."

Tilting his head, Sandor glowers at the man, rage pulsing through his body. "Bugger that and bugger you, too. She is mine and no one will take her from me, understand? Any man dares try will die a slow painful death, starting with you. Go ahead, you buggering bastard, I dare you."

"You men, seize Lady Stark!" Lord Celtigar shouts, drawing his sword.

Roaring in fury, Sandor cuts through the men with frightening speed. Pod and Sam soon join him in the fight but by then most of the remaining Baratheon soldiers lay bloodied and strewn about the porch and yard. Blood pours from a shallow gash on his side but Sandor is not through yet. Easily disarming Lord Celtigar with a crushing blow, he renders the lord's sword arm unusably mangled.

A loud crash echoes from the rear of the cabin and Sansa steps outside in time to see Stranger snorting and trumpeting as he bolts into the yard, eager to join his master in battle. Her eyes drift from the horse to his owner and then to the blood seeping from the wound on his side, knowing all too well the soldiers are ill equipped to confront the awakened fury of the Hound. "Sandor my love, are you alright?"

Panting, Sandor nods at her. "Stay where you are Sansa. Pod, Sam, keep her safe while I finish this." Moving toward the arrogant lord in a blind fury, Sandor raises his leg and kicks the man in the ribs. "Thought you'd take her that easily, did you? Look at my face. LOOK at me!" Sandor snarls, kicking Lord Celtigar's ornate sword within his reach. "I've been to the Seven hells boy. The gods know I'd kill the Stranger himself to keep my lady safe. I dare you, go ahead and just try me. Show me you at least have the balls to try and take her yourself instead of ordering Stannis' lackeys to do your dirty work."

As Sandor inches his way toward the lord, Jon and Stannis ride up to see Lord Celtigar scrambling in the muddied snow for his weapon. "Stop! I'll handle this from here, Clegane. Did you not hear me when I said you will accept my sister's decision?" Jon quickly dismounts with his sword drawn. "Lord Stannis, have your men take Lord Celtigar out of my sister's sight."

"This is intolerable from a man in your position Lord Celtigar. We will handle him on the morrow," Stannis assents gravely before gesturing for his guard to take Lord Celtigar into custody. "My dear Lady Sansa, I regret we meet under such unpleasant circumstances. You must believe I would never sanction such behavior against Lord Eddard Stark's daughter. Arranging marriages has become more perilous than battles, it would seem."

Bowing, Sansa cautiously replies, "My Lord, it is an honor to meet you at long last. Forgive me; I did not intend to cause you any trouble."

"It makes no matter now. Your brother has brought me information that is well worth it, my lady."

Jon looks over at Sansa, her face pale in the moonlight. "Sister, are you alright? Did they hurt you?"

"No, Jon I am fine but Sandor-he's injured, please help him," Sansa shakily responds, rushing to her beloved's side, her eyes filling with tears at the sight of his blood staining his clothing. Jon quickly moves to help her seat him, amazed to see her allow her true emotions break free after guardedly offering the barest of demonstrations until now.

"Shh, Little bird, calm yourself. I'm alright. I've had worse wounds from those damn bedbugs in King's Landing," Sandor grunts roughly, his keen gray eyes softening as he brushes a stray strand of hair from her face. Deftly Sansa lifts both jerkin and undershirt to inspect the wound carefully. Without any hint of embarrassment, she gently strokes Sandor's side to comfort him.

Taken aback, Jon watches the couple carefully and notes that for the moment they seem to have forgetten they are not alone. Sam watches over Sansa's ministrations, quietly offering suggestions until Jon says low, "Sansa, please, let Sam do his job. He'll take good care of him. Come over here with me now."

Nodding absently she steps away, her eyes following Sandor as the men take him inside. "I want the best care for him, understand?" Jon declares. "Once Clegane is treated, then we shall all sit down and have a talk."