Hey everyone!

I know! It's been sooo long since I last updated but I have the best excuse since I've been in Scotland for an almost 2 weeks trip and only came back a week ago.

By the way if anyone wants to know, the trip has been wonderful! *grins*

As always, I'd like to thank everyone for reading and commenting.

Also, special thanks to wildsky_sheri for her help with this!

Sansa

"Finally," Sansa breathed to herself when she clutched her dress and felt the long-hoped-for dry wool against her fingers. All set and ready to go and it's not even midday! she mused happily, her eyes set in a squint while she glanced gratefully toward the sun.

Earlier that morning, worry that she and Sandor would need to postpone their departure as the latter had kept repeating since daybreak had filled her mind but the gods had answered her prayers and proved him wrong. Indeed barely two hours ago, a swift and unexpected blast had chased away the thick grey clouds that had hovered overhead since dawn and revealed a striking blue sky instead. Under the warm sunbeams, Sansa's old gown had dried faster than she would have believed possible and there was now naught left to do but for her to change before they left the village. Although she was thankful for the peasants' generosity, Sansa had no real desire to linger in these woods - she was as eager as Sandor to put this valley behind her and thus she lost no time grabbing her dress and hurried immediately to Bert's hut.

"I'll help you with your gown," the woman cried out as she followed in Sansa's steps. Once inside the hut, Bert's true motivation was quick to show through. In fact the woman didn't even bother with subtlety and went straight to the point. "It's not too late, m'lady. I told you this morning: we can help you," she insisted in a whisper, her hands busy lacing the back of Sansa's dress.

"Don't worry for me, Bert. I'm perfectly fine. Sandor Clegane is bringing me back to my family and with no one else would I feel as safe as with him," Sansa retorted - perhaps a little too stiffly, she realised - as she forced herself to smile.

Bert's hands tensed against Sansa's back as she heard the young girl's words. The woman was obviously not convinced.

"A maiden shouldn't be left alone with such a man," she asserted severely while she fastened the ends of the laces with a bit more strength than was truly necessary.

There was no use in trying to explain her situation further, Sansa pondered, and so as soon as all the laces of her gown were properly fixed, she kissed the woman's cheek and flew away from her. Clearly, Bert had deduced that the embrace she had interrupted the previous day had been forced on Sansa but really, who could blame her for mistaking? Barely a moon ago, I undoubtedly would have believed the same had I seen another young maiden nestled in the Hound's arms, she reflected pensively. Who wouldn't have believed so in truth? Even Sansa herself was at a loss when she tried to grasp what could possibly draw her to Sandor Clegane. He was a coarse brute, a killer with terrible manners and on the top of all that, his face was burned in the most terrifying fashion. None of those traits should ever logically appeal to her… but logic apparently had no power where emotion was concerned. While her mind kept insisting anytime they were apart that she should be repulsed by the man, an unknown and mighty force that took root deep inside her propelled her toward him the minute he was in her sight. How can one's self be so divided? she wondered, adrift in a sea of her own conflicting feelings.

The question still hung unanswered in the back of her mind when Sansa reached the edge of the forest where the Hound had told her to join him. Dark and imposing, the man stood next to Stranger, a bored scowl twisting his face while he ignored the villagers that nervously bade him farewell. As if she was a magnet to his steely eyes, Sandor jerked his head and glanced at Sansa as soon as she stepped into view, his features softening a bit when he recognised her.

"You're ready?" he asked as he unceremoniously made his way through the smallfolk that stood between them.

Blushing, Sansa nodded, a shy smile uncontrollably curling her lips. His mere presence was enough to disconcert her, she realised again. Menacing as the Hound could appear, she had always been timid in his presence but this new nervousness that shook her core was as utterly different as it was peculiarly… pleasant. Even intoxicating, like a good wine, she decided as she distractedly settled a delicate hand over the fluttering that assailed her belly.

"Let's go then," the tall man rasped as he pressed his palm over Sansa's shoulder blade and turned around to guide her.

As they walked to the horse, the smallfolk all gave way for them, deferentially bowing while giving Sansa their best wishes. The young girl smiled back at them and had not yet finished thanking them for their hospitality when, without warning, Sandor grabbed her by the waist and lifted her from the ground. Her eyes grew wide and she lost her composure for an instant but Sansa quickly regained her smile and started waving at the group of peasants while Sandor jumped on the stallion behind her.

"My thanks to all of you once again! I'll pray for your well-being when I next visit a sept and put in a word on your behalf to my family," Sansa promised as Stranger began to move.

A look of concern on her face, Bert appeared right in the middle of the group of peasants just then. Sansa smiled at the woman and was about to lift her hand to salute her when Sandor kicked his stallion with his heels, the beast abruptly turning around and hastening away from the villagers. Head turned backward, Sansa watched as their shapes grew smaller and smaller, until they had vanished completely from her view. I'll never see them again, she reflected, not truly moved by the observation; they would only become memories to join with the mist of a thousand others.

In a comfortable silence, they rode down a regular slope for a couple of hours, sometimes needing to zigzag when it became too abrupt. The scenery was changing rapidly and Sansa had no doubt that at the pace they were travelling, they would soon reach the valley Sandor had mentioned earlier. Down the hill, a tributary of the Red Fork runs. We're truly nearing the Riverlands, she realised, not quite as happily as she would have expected. Shaking her head to dismiss the unsettling thought, Sansa peered at the pure blue sky above her and breathed in. Warm and caressing, the sun was more reminiscent of summer than autumn – really, it was a glorious day to be on the road and thus Sansa decided that there was no reason to let anything preoccupy her. Lazily, she leaned against her companion's breastplate and shut her eyes. Between the warmth of the sunbeams that glowed over her face and the reassuring solidity of the man behind her, she felt as if no ill could ever prevail against her. She couldn't hold back her wide grin when after a few minutes of contentment, she twisted in the saddle and glanced up at Sandor. The man immediately lowered his eyes to her and Sansa distractedly let herself get lost in them. They were dark, strong and rough, something harsh and intractable shining in them. She couldn't help but wonder what they had witnessed over the years, how they perceived the world… how they saw her. Always, they seemed to desperately search for her as if she was all they cared to see and Sansa felt as if she would never tire of the insistent attention they were giving her.

Sighing, she twisted back but leaned even further into Sandor while clasping one of the arms that flanked her in a loose and dreamy embrace. Tenderly, she rested her head against the thick arm she held while gazing at her companion's hands as he transferred both reins into one. The newly freed hand then gradually - almost hesitantly - made its way to her before curling over her stomach in a slow caress. The gesture was so intimate, soft and strong at the same time that Sansa instantly felt as if a legion of butterflies had filled her belly. She bit her lip, overwhelmed by the unanticipated sensation and let a hand fall from the arm she was holding, laying it over the hand that stroked her instead. Carefully, she brushed her fingers over his before resting her palm over his knuckles.

"Little bird," Sandor muttered hoarsely as he tightened his grip on her. She could feel his gaze boring into her and his breath in her hair.

Never in her life had Sansa felt so lighthearted and giddy at the same time, it was a strange mix of feelings, delightful and confusing in equal parts. Nevertheless, she let her instincts take charge and arched against her cohort, throwing her head back as she shut her eyes in abandon. She might have stayed like that forever if Sandor's warm hand hadn't suddenly slid away from her. Puzzled, Sansa turned around and inquisitively glanced up at him.

"I'm losing my focus, little bird," he said in a soft but flat rasp while raising his gaze to the horizon. "I've got to keep my attention on the land before us or else we'll end up down a buggering precipice or something," he explained, the unburned corner of his mouth curling into something akin to a half-smile.

Slightly disappointed, Sansa nonetheless found his argument valid and nodded. It wouldn't do to die so stupidly and they could always kiss and enjoy each other's touch later. Resigned, she moved forward in the saddle but she quickly missed Sandor's warmth. As discreetly as she could, she slowly propped her body against his torso, hoping that as careful as she had been, her touch would pass unnoticed against the roughness of his amour and that he therefore wouldn't realise she was resting against him once again.

It's so pretty, Sansa reflected as she admired the light gleaming over the large river they were approaching. The mountains were definitely behind them now, although the shadowy blue shape of a smaller range of hills was visible in the distant horizon before them.

"The water of this river comes from the mountains we've crossed. Eventually, it'll join the Red Fork," Sandor was explaining to Sansa. "I'd wager it's almost as cold as the bloody glacier it used to be, especially in this season," he added with a certain level of derision as Stranger began stepping into the crystalline water.

The stallion didn't appear to mind the cold however and they entered the river with no difficulty. The level of the water was not very high for it was autumn; it barely touched the tips of Sansa's feet in its deepest part and for that the young girl was grateful. Once they reached the other bank, Sandor jumped from Stranger's back and helped her down.

"I hope you won't mind if we halt here an hour or two so that I can clean up a little. As soon as I'm done though, we'll continue and ride until it's pitch dark. We've lost enough time already," the man rasped nonchalantly as he freed his horse from its saddle.

Biting her lip, Sansa glanced around her in disappointment. Before Sandor had spoken, she had hoped that they might make camp next to the river bed. The place was beautiful with the long herbs and thick moss that covered its soil; even tall daisies of yellow and white thrived not far from the bank. Flowers in autumn? Sansa thought with amazement. "I'd prefer if we stayed here for the night," she admitted after a moment. "I could lay my bedroll on the moss and sleep more comfortably than last night," she continued with enthusiasm while approaching Sandor. "Oh, and I could also braid a crown with the flowers there," she added in a soft whisper, blushing at her own childishness while pointing at the daisies.

Sandor snorted in surprise when he heard her intention and gave her a puzzled, amused look but then he narrowed his eyes at her with suspicion, features hardening. "Let me get this straight, girl. You want to delay that buggering exchange you've been waiting for ever since the day your father was killed, only to braid a stupid crown of flowers?" he asked with a mix of irritation and scepticism as he closed the gap that remained between them.

At the mention of her father, Sansa tensed slightly and lowered her eyes but she replied nonetheless. "Not just for that. As I told you, I'd like to sleep on the moss… and also…" she let the words hang, not knowing exactly what else she wanted herself. "My mother and brother will wait for us," she finally pleaded after an instant as she gazed up at Sandor. "Please, let's stay here for the night."

Mouth twitching slightly, the man studied Sansa at length for a time, as if by assimilating every detail of her physique he could figure out her thoughts. A minute passed, silent and awkward but then he shook his head incredulously. "As you say, little bird," he grunted as he turned around and strolled toward the edge of the forest. There, he found an oak tree and hooked his cloak over one of its branches. "We'll stay here for the night if that's what you want," he said without enthusiasm as he returned to Sansa.

"Thank you, Sandor," she murmured before getting on tiptoe and kissing his jaw.

With a sigh, the man raised his hands and settled both of them over her shoulders. Wordlessly, he gazed down at her as if she was the weirdest creature he had ever come across throughout his whole life but then he relaxed and a hint of a smile curled his lips. Slowly he raised one of his hands and caressed Sansa's hair.

"I'll go bathe while the sun's still warm. Do you mind waiting here on your own?" Sandor muttered, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw.

Shaking her head, Sansa lifted her hand and distractedly followed the joints of his breastplate with the tips of her fingers. "I could help you take off your armour if you'd like," she said without thinking.

Instantly, Sandor took a step back and stared at her with an expression of mirth and shock all at once. "You would take off my armour," he stated more than he asked before he snorted a brief, hoarse laugh. "What would that bloody septa of yours have thought of that, I wonder?" A mocking grin twisted his face as he uttered his last sentence.

Flushed, Sansa lowered embarrassed eyes to her hands. "I only wanted to help you… I didn't think-"

"Of course you didn't," Sandor cut her off before barking another short, rough laugh.

Smirking, he lifted her chin with his fingers and his eyes bore into hers. "I've half a mind to let you do it. Only if I did, you'd most likely faint from the stench that'll come out of that damned armour," he sneered, voice husky and low, before heading away from her toward the oak tree where his cloak was hooked. "I'll do it myself," he stated as he reached for a buckle over his shoulder.

One by one, the Hound undid all of the straps that tied the steel plates to his body, the large pieces falling rhythmically to the ground in a metallic cacophony as he did so. The tunic he wore underneath was so stained with dirt and sweat that it clung to his torso like a second skin and although Sansa knew she should've been repulsed by the filthy sigh he offered, she found she was strangely intrigued and fascinated instead. He's so muscled, she noted, albeit it was far from the first occasion she'd seen him without armour. She wondered for an instant why her eyes should be drawn so much to something she had previously seen dozens of times and never gave a second thought to. Perhaps it was because she now had the possibility, if the desire took her, to let her hands wander over the man's massive chest, arms and even down his sculpted stomach. Why would I want to do such things? she thought to herself, appalled as she suddenly regained her composure and stared elsewhere.

"I'm leaving you but I won't take long," she heard him rasp after some time.

Alerted by his voice, Sansa turned her gaze on him again. He was standing only a few yards from her - waiting for an answer - and she had to use all of her willpower not to stare again. At a loss for words, she only gave him a shy nod.

Once he had disappeared behind a layer of trees, Sansa strolled toward the river. It was nice to have some free time for once, she decided. She should use it to relax and let her head void itself of anything but it was impossible for her mind kept going back to Sandor Clegane and the way her life and heart had both been turned upside down for the last few days. Does he think the same of me? she wondered curiously while nearing the river.

The water was pure and calm, so still that by bowing her head and peering down, Sansa could discern her reflection almost as clearly as in any regular glass. She smiled at herself, pleased with the image she was getting.

His name came to her again. "Sandor," she whispered softly as she rose.

He loves me… I think. That's why I kissed him. For a second, she grinned at the memory but then a sigh escaped her lips. She would never know for sure if the Hound loved her for he was not a man to share his feelings. He'd never tell her. Her heart ached almost painfully at the thought and she was taken aback by the violence of her reaction. Why should I care? It's not like he was to be my husband. He's only my escort and very soon we'll be parting anyway, she ineffectively tried to reason with herself.

The pang that throbbed in her chest was nothing she cared to linger upon and thus Sansa tried to take her mind from anything that could trouble her further. She had no reason to be unhappy at that very moment, she decided. Her surroundings were beautiful and the sun was so warm. Even hot, she realised as she took off her cloak and settled it over a large boulder. Stretching, she sat over it and gazed at the river. Is it really as cold as Sandor said it was? There was only one way of finding out, she concluded with a sudden wolfish smile as she hurriedly unlaced her boots and removed her long woollen stockings. Timidly, she stepped toward the river, careful not to hurt her feet over the pebbles. She stopped only when her toes were almost touching the water and breathed in as nervously as if she was about to face a life-threatening danger. Then, as abruptly as she could, she jumped with both feet into the stream with a scream of both horror and delight. The water was beyond freezing; Sansa could have sworn it was liquid ice that flowed around her ankles. Wasting no time, she stepped out of the river only to realise that the hem of her dress was now all soaked but she only giggled at her own foolishness. Revived and energised by the shock she had just been through, Sansa began strolling about happily with no purpose until she got a glimpse of something colourful out of the corner of her eye.

"Oh, the daisies!"she exclaimed to herself as she glanced at the flowers. I had almost forgotten about them, the young girl mused as she hurried toward them, losing no time picking the prettiest ones.

In a matter of minutes, her crown was braided and Sansa quickly installed it over her head, a wide grin curving her lips. Here in this uninhabited valley, I could be the Queen, she decided. I would reign over plants and beasts equally and treat them justly, as any true ruler should. The silliness of her thoughts made her giggle again. If she were queen in this vale, would the Hound be her king? The idea was plain ridiculous and so she laughed heartily. Will he find me beautiful with flowers in my hair? she wondered, although she could easily guess the answer. One last daisy in her hand, Sansa absent-mindedly gazed at it for a time until of their own accord, her fingers began removing the flower's petals.

The litany came to her almost instinctively. "He loves me," she softly whispered, watching the first petal whirl down. "He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not," she continued, pausing between each petal, watching as they lightly touched the ground. "He loves me…" she breathed one last time before she heard the creaks of crushed branches from behind her. Gasping, she turned around and let the flower fall from her hand.

"What are you doing?" Sandor asked from where he stood, at least thirty feet from her.

"Nothing," she replied, a blush creeping over her cheeks.

The Hound's hair was wet and plastered over his head and cheeks and droplets of water still rolled down his neck, finding their way through the dark hair of his chest where the clean but partly sodden tunic he wore was open. For one short moment, Sansa was rooted in place.

"I heard you scream. What happened?" he rasped as he slowly walked in her direction.

"I… I wanted to try the water. It's freezing," she explained. "See how I soaked my dress?" she asked as she slightly lifted her skirts to show him the sodden hem.

Sandor's eyes lowered to the hem of her gown but then, Sansa realised that he was in truth peering at her feet and ankles. The view seemed to light something in him for his eyes gleamed.

"It is freezing," he acquiesced. "I could warm you." The man's voice was low and hungry.

"Warm me?" Sansa repeated as she took a nervous step back.

"Aye. Warm you. Would you like that?" he growled.

"Oh, I don't know…" she muttered as she stepped back further, an exciting fright starting to take her over.

Grinning in an almost threatening manner, Sandor began to stride toward her and Sansa's heart immediately jumped into her throat. She squeaked as she turned around and began running. Her pursuer was faster than her though; she knew it for she could hear him as he quickened his pace and came nearer and nearer. She was fleeing as if her life depended on it, as if she would be eaten alive once she was caught and the knowledge that he would soon catch up with her was both bloodcurdling and thrilling.

Inevitably, Sandor's strong fingers soon grasped her arm and encircled it. Sansa screamed and tried to struggle free from his grip but he easily immobilised her and threw her onto the moss at his feet.

"You can't flee from me, Sansa," he hissed as he got down on his knees.

In no time, his body was almost entirely covering hers as he pinned her helplessly to the ground. He was so strong and heavy, she could never fight him but she absurdly tried anyway, enjoying the sensation of being dominated so completely by such a powerful man.

Ultimately, she stilled, breathless and let Sandor slide a hand up her waist. Slowly, firmly, he raised it to her ribs in a possessive massage and stroked her as if he had never longed to touch anything more than her body. At once defenceless and exhilarated, Sansa shut her eyes and arched into him. His breath was warm against her neck and hair as he bit and licked her throat.

"Sandor," she managed to moan just before he kissed her with the passion and despair of a dying man.

"Oh, Sansa," he panted as he left her mouth. "I want you."

It was then that she felt it. Solid and omnipresent as soon as she realised what it was; his need against her thigh. Her eyes abruptly opened but she couldn't utter a sound as overwhelmed as she was at that moment.

Oblivious, the man was nibbling at her ear. "You're still my prisoner, little bird. You know that? I could do whatever I want with you…" he whispered in a fit of passion as he grabbed one of her breasts.

Yelping, Sansa began squirming but Sandor overpowered her and only pressed his manhood further against her thigh and hip; she could sense almost every detail of its massive shape as it rubbed against her.

"Sandor! Please…" Sansa finally managed to cry out as she wriggled in a vain attempt to free herself from his hold.

The fear that was building in her must have been evident for the man loosened his grip and backed away from her slightly. "I'd best stop," he panted, eyes still wild. "Or else, I'll take that song from you."

For the breadth of a second, confusion took Sansa over. Take that song? What song?

Steadily, Sandor got on his knees and began studying her, his head tilted slightly. After an awkward pause, he laughed wryly and added, "Don't tell me you don't yet understand what I meant…"

Baffled, Sansa got on her elbows. Oh… she mused as she finally realised the scale of her innocence.

The man stood, his manhood still evidently stiff in his breeches. "I'm… sorry, Sansa," he rasped, ill at ease but smirking as he looked elsewhere and stalked into the woods.

He left her alone and bewildered, not certain of what she should be thinking. Though she was horrified by his actions and the nuance that he had implied all along without her even grasping it, Sansa felt alone and unfulfilled, frustrated by the lack of him. Her core was burning with a need that she didn't totally understand. I'm so naïve, so stupid! Of course he would want to… do these things, she sighed, exasperated with herself. How could she not have foreseen this?

Unenthusiastically, she got up, smoothed her skirts and repaired her hair. Looking behind her, she noticed that her crown of daisies had been crushed beneath her. Same as my naivety, she observed bitterly.

She headed toward the river and sat on the boulder where she had laid her cloak earlier. The sun was setting in the west and the view was beautiful of course, but she felt sad and heavy. She let her mind wander without any purpose for some time until she heard splashing sounds nearby. Curious, she jerked her head and saw a small boat on the river moving slowly toward her. Two men were aboard and were peering at her with interest. Their attention sent a shiver down Sansa's spine and she tensed at seeing their faces light up with undeniable pleasure when they were close enough to make her out completely.

"Who are you?" one of them inquired with a yell as they both swiftly used their oars to get the boat to rest over the pebbles of the bank.

Alarmed, Sansa stood up and began striding away.

"Hey! Don't go!" the other man ordered as he jumped from the boat.

For the second time that day, Sansa had to run although this flight was nothing like the game she and Sandor had played mere moments earlier. She ran as fast as she could manage but Sansa's bare feet kept catching in the long herbs that covered the ground and therefore her pursuer caught her by the wrist as quickly as the Hound had captured her minutes before.

"What's a lovely young lady like you doing in the wild all alone?" the man asked as he immobilized his prey with the help of his friend.

"I'm not alone! Let me go, or else, Sandor will kill you!" Sansa cried out with force, squirming and kicking desperately as she did so.

"Who's Sandor?" one of the men replied, unimpressed.

"My protector!" Sansa warned him loudly. "Sandor! SANDOR!" she screamed at the top of her lungs as she struggled against their grips.

She was unsurprisingly no match against two grown men; they grinned, pleased at the prospect of the feast that awaited them while they began laying her on the ground. Just as she was starting to lose hope, Sansa heard steps coming fast from behind her. The men noticed them too but only had time to loosen their hold on her before their fate was sealed. Unbalanced, Sansa fell on her backside and gasped as she saw a sword thrust through one of the men's throats. She rapidly rolled onto her side and barely managed to avoid his body as it fell lifeless on the soil. Now flat on her front, Sansa watched as the other man tried to flee, screaming. Thankfully, she managed to bring both her hands over her eyes as she glimpsed the Hound's sword coming down on her attacker and only heard the sound of her protector's blade as it sliced the man nearly in half.

All of a sudden, the forest was quiet again; not even the birds seemed to sing anymore, only the Hound's loud breathing could be heard. Still in a state of shock, Sansa was unable to move for a long time and kept her hands firmly pressed over her face but after a few minutes, she slowly lowered them and looked warily around her. The bloody mess that surrounded her was horrifying and as she raised her gaze to the Hound, she realised that he was almost as covered with blood as the bodies at his feet. He was looking down at her, face stained with red droplets, chest heaving up and down rapidly. His eyes were still wide. Without haste, Sansa clumsily stood up, her gaze never leaving his. Their eyes were locked as she slowly approached him but she halted when she was a step away from him. Sandor still held his sword in one of his hands; its scarlet, sticky end was buried in the ground next to him. Sansa looked him up and down as if she was seeing him for the first time and truly, she was. For the first time, she didn't see the flaws in the man before her; his scars, his rudeness, all that was gone. Even his previous horrible behaviour toward her was now totally forgotten. No, at that moment, she only saw the saviour, the protector that he was and had always been for her. My knight, she mused, my knight in shining armour.

And then, she threw her arms around his neck, jumped up and kissed him passionately.