Summery: Sandor prepares for his wedding and contemplates the memory of those who believed that one day even he would have his happy ending.

Disclaimer: All this belongs to GRRM.

It took nearly a fortnight for Sandor to find the courage to speak to the Elder Brother about marrying Sansa Stark. It took several more before he found a gift of proposal that was worthy of his Little Bird. With pieces of crystalized glass stones that he had found in the soil by the riverbed, and steel links from his own chest plate Sandor had Gendry carefully craft a pair of earrings. A gift that was symbolic both of her beauty and her importance to him.

Standing before a small cracked mirror dressed in his finest garbs Sandor breathed a shaky sigh. Behind him stood Gendry and Hot Pie chatted and japed; debating who was the most dashing and wondering if Arry would actually wear a dress to the ceremony. It had been several moons since the scarred warrior had proposed to the northern princess. Several moons since she had fulfilled his deepest wish, and erased the last of his fears with a single word: yes.

Ignoring the two young men who continued their silly banter, Sandor took to the ardent task of making himself presentable for the young woman who was to become his bride. His hands shook as he carefully parted his hair so as to cloak the puckered flesh of his ruined scalp. Smoothing his black tunic and pants for the umpteenth time Sandor struggled to bury his anxious thoughts. He wanted nothing more than to give his Little Bird the happy ending she rightfully deserved. He had no titles, no claim to power, and certainly no dragons either. Though heir to Clegane Keep, Sandor knew returning home would only place their lives in danger; the lions would be quick to pounce.

Burying his doubts, Sandor turned his thoughts to the dream that had haunted his rest the previous night; a strange recollection of his Grandmother's final words to him; a blessing that had been given shortly before she had crossed the veil.

In dreams he was but a young boy living in his grandfather's keep. He had been summoned by his grandmother who sought to see him one last time before the Stranger came to take her home. Sitting on the edge of his grand-parents bed he watched on as the elderly wildling woman placed a frail hand onto his scarred cheek. She wore a smile that made her look far younger than her aged years. In her grey eyes was a strange gleam, as though she were looking through him to something or someone beyond. When she spoke her voice was strong, clear and direct. It had made him feel as though he were a man grown, not a boy of nine name days.

'You were born of the Father and of the Mother,' she began, her smile turning enigmatic.

You were raised by the Crone. And blessed by the Warrior. she continued; her voice growing distant while the stone walls of her bedchambers eroded away, until Sandor found himself standing alone in the old rose gardens where his little sister used to play.
'One day you will call the Blacksmith your brother, and will be kissed by the Stranger,' came his sister's musical voice. 'But it is the Maiden, whose heart you will hold.' she added, with a smile that was missing one front tooth.

Reaching out to take her into his arms, for he had missed her dearly, Sandor instead found himself clasping arms with his grandfather. Beyond the elder kennel master lie Blackwater Bay and the great lands of the North.

'You will be feared and respected throughout the kingdoms; though no one will ever call you Ser. You will bring honour and nobility to where there once was none. You will one day be a prince and you will be well-loved.' Spoke his Grandfather in the familiar timber voice Sandor once knew and loved. Shortly after, he had woken from his dreams alone and back in the Quiet Isles monastery.

Sandor could still recall silently scoffing his Grandmother's blessing. He was so certain that her parting words had been spoken out of pity, not green sight. That morning, the truth of her words had become entirely clear. If only he had known…

Lost to childhood memories and the dream he had experienced a short time ago, Sandor did not notice the Elder brother entering his chambers, or his friends' departure.

'Your Grandfather would have been so proud to see you now,' the old monk said by way of greeting, drawing Sandor's thoughts back to the present. There was little he did not know about the kennelmaster, for the scarred warrior had spoken of him often. Sandor felt a pang of sorrow to the Elder Brother's words. How he wished his grandparents and sister could have been witness to this joyous day. If only to know that Gregor's reign of terror had met its end; that not all dreams need end in nightmares. They deserved better fates than what had been granted them. It made Sandor all the more determined that he would honour their memories in whatever way he could.

'My father always believed Gregor would become House Clegane's greatest legacy,' Sandor began the irony of his situation setting in. 'Now he burns in the seven hells; the great mountain knight of worms.' Since discovering his brother's death he had thought little of the Mountain that Rides. It was a startling revelation, one that was not entirely unwelcomed.

The Elder Brother placed a hand on the great warrior's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. 'You are House Clegane's greatest legacy and hope now. I know you will not fail in this,' he confided, speaking in his usual quiet tones.

His words immediately reminded Sandor of Sansa's own spoken earlier that morning. He could still see the princess' shy, yet sweet smile as she presented to him with a cloak she had personally made bearing the sigil of his house. Finer craftsmanship the warrior had not seen in all his ten and eight years. Not even the white cloak of the Kingsguard could compare to the loving detail that had been put into its creation.

With great care he removed the autumn cloak from its resting place within a small wooden chest. His fingers gently caressed the detailed silhouettes that represented three black hounds his grandfather had loved and lost. Placing the yellow cloak over his broad shoulders, Sandor was reminded of the words his beloved had spoken to him as they stood on the banks of the river.

'This is my gift to you, may you wear it with pride, always. For you are greater, nobler and more honourable than any knight or warrior I have ever known. On this day, you will be forever my prince, and I will be your lady wife.

Filled with joy and trepidation Sandor confessed to his fears at having failed to give his Little Bird a marriage celebration worthy of her fairy tale dreams. He would never forget her response.

'I am surrounded by my family, my friends, and I am to marry my beloved. What more could I desire in a wedding?' she said, wearing a smile that shone as bright as the sun. Elated and humbled by the sincerity of her words, Sandor kissed her lips, before whispering words he never imagined he would ever say.

Together they had departed, hand in hand, for the monastery to complete the final preparations of their big day.

'What is taking you so long?' Arya's voice called from beyond the heavy wooden door. 'We're all waiting for you and the Elder Brother to begin the ceremony!' she groused as she played with the door's handle. Sandor could hear the muffled voices of Hot Pie and Gendry arguing with her demanding she respect the Hound's privacy, so that he may prepare himself in peace. The wolf-girl of course would have none of it. Fortunately Sansa's musical voice was heard dissuading her sister from bursting through the door and making a scene.

'I believe it is time to make our departure for the old weir tree,' the Elder Brother said, a wry smile playing on his lips. 'I dare say your good-sister is as eager to begin, as you and your bride are.'

Casting one last look at his reflection in the worn mirror Sandor scoffed back a laugh. No amount of grooming would ever make him comely, yet in Sansa's eyes he was every bit the handsome noble hero. Had he believed in the gods he might have given a prayer, or ten in thanks. Instead he smiled to himself, feeling every bit a king about to meet his queen as he buckled his great sword to his hip. As he departed his chambers, the warrior was certain he saw from the corner of his eyes the phantom figure of his Grandfather watching on, a proud smile playing on his lips.

A short time later, Sandor stood before the Elder Brother beneath a faceless heart tree that was as aged and old as the forest where it remained hidden. Behind him stood Gendry and Hot Pie, both dressed in their finest. By the chubby young baker stood the former Silent Sister who had since become his sweetheart.

Dressed in a gown of forest green and wearing the snow white cloak of her family's sigil Sansa approached them her arm linked through Arya's own. At the sight of his beautiful Little Bird Sandor felt his heart race and his breath catch in his throat. As in that moment, Sansa looked every bit the Northron beauty he so often envisioned upon hearing his grandmother's fairy tales of old.

The ceremony was small and simple, consisting only members of their pack as well as some of the monks, and locals whom they had befriended during their stay on the Quiet Isles. It was not the grand sort of wedding Sansa once dreamed of as a little girl. It was the wedding Sandor never believed that he would ever experience. Sansa could not have been happier as she exchanged her vows. Sandor could not have been more humbled or proud as he gently draped his cloak of autumn across his Little Bird's delicate shoulders. With a kiss of passion and shy whispered words of love the two were pronounced husband and wife, as all around them the first flakes of snow began to fall from a cloudy, grey sky.

Hours later, after a hearty meal and joyous celebrations, the newly wedded lovers departed for a once ruined cottage that their family and friends had repaired in anticipation of their wedding night. It was no castle, no great Keep but for the Hound and his Little Bird it would become more than just a safe haven from a long torrential winter. It would be their sanctuary, and a place of peace from the chaos that threatened to destroy the kingdoms around them.