A cold wind blows through the camp, sending a sharp chill through Sandor. As he goes about his chores, he cannot help but gaze at his beloved bride, marveling that she belongs to him at last. The little bird is sitting on a fallen log and looking up at the millions of stars blanketing the night sky with a huge smile on her face. He is happy to note she looks more relaxed and contented than he has seen her since he arrived with Kig Robert's retinue in Winterfell. Wedding her is a dream too good to be true for the scarred man who long ago stopped expecting to receive anything in life.
Sansa shivers, noticing the chilly wind too; her years in the north have taught her how to read the weather very well. Holding her hands out in front of her, she easily recognizes the air is filled with moisture. "Husband, I believe a large storm is coming tonight and it should be here soon, maybe even before midnight."
Smelling the air, Sandor grunts in agreement, putting extra stones in the fire before making his way over to Maiden and Stranger. Untying the horses' hobbled legs, Sandor leads them under a wide crag where they will be sheltered and away from the Sandor finishes his chores, he carries the hot stones into their shelter and smothers the campfire. "Little bird, let's go inside...we need to have us a talk," Sandor says gravely.
Suddenly apprehensive, Sansa's mind races with questions as she walks into their shelter. What could be wrong? What had happened between them earlier wasn't that terrible...was he still upset? He didn't seem upset at dinner...did I not please him as a woman? Does he regret our marriage already? Sansa sits down, subconsciously wringing her hands as she waits for his words.
Puzzled by her abrupt change in demeanor, Sandor pauses and stares at her a moment before beginning to speak. "Sansa...I don't know how much you may have heard about me in King's Landing...about my past, my childhood I mean," he paces, his words faltering as a wave of emotion tightens his throat. Struggling to compose himself, Sandor curses under his breath and turns away, running his hand across his brow.
What? Why does he want to know about that? The only person to ever speak to me about Sandor's childhood was the Master of Coin Lord Baelish, on the day of the Hand's Tourney. "Well," Sansa speaks low, her voice trembling, "The day of the Hand's Tourney, Lord Petyr Baelish sat down beside me and told me a terrible story about you and your brother. It was most disturbing; did you not see us turn to look at you?"
At her words, Sandor's gray eyes darken ominously; he remembers that day very well, watching Littlefinger unabashedly leering as he sidled up beside her the moment her father walked away. Baelish was seething with jealousy when he saw Sansa smiling at me...I thought that was the reason he sat down to talk with her.
"Yeah, I saw the both of you. You looked like you wanted someone to help you escape his conversation."
"You speak rightly; I could not wait for Father to return. It was all very unusual, his whole demeanor was…disturbing. I wasn't sure whether I should believe him or not; in truth I don't even rightly know why he said anything at all about you."
Buggering bastard, I should have followed my instincts and kicked Baelish out of the section reserved for the Starks. Gritting his teeth, Sandor sighs and nods, waiting for her to continue. "What did he say, Little bird?"
"He...well, he said you had been playing with a beautifully crafted toy soldier that belonged to Gregor and...and he had been so enraged that he held your face in the fire while you...while you screamed." Sansa whispers the last words, her eyes filling with tears.
Sandor's head throbs with the effort of containing his fury; he knows Sansa needs to feel secure enough to finish telling him the whole of what Littlefinger said and so he remains silent. Fucking Littlefinger...I knew he was jealous when he saw her smile at me but I didn't think he'd stoop this low...I'll slit that sick bastard's neck ear to ear if I ever cross his path again for burdening her with this.
"Why didn't you ask me about it when I escorted you back to your rooms later that night?"
"He said...he said that all of the knights in King's Landing wouldn't be able to save me if I repeated that story to anyone," Sansa finishes softly, her anxiety escalating with every sign of annoyance from Sandor.
Stopping pacing for a moment, Sandor kneels down to her, and taking her hands in his, he tenderly kisses each of them. "Did you believe him?" He asks her softly, his eyes searching hers, willing her to feel safe with him.
"I didn't know what to think of it...he was so strange, even Arya thought so. She tried glaring at him so he would be quiet or else go away. The one thing I knew for certain is that you wouldn't hurt me and if anything, I thought you would kill him for telling me," she sniffles, looking down at their hands.
Sandor ruefully barks out his snarling laugh. "Well you got that much right, Little bird. Bloody Littlefinger risked his neck telling you that," he sighs, shaking his head. "That buggering whoreson is just lucky Gregor didn't overhear him that day; he'd have been dead before the joust was over. Not even I would have tried to keep Gregor from doing his worst."
"Sandor, is...is it true? Is that really how you got scared?" Sansa squeezes his hands, her eyes full of pity. Her tender empathy pierces Sandor's heart and the man takes a deep breath once more, struggling to control his emotions.
"Yes, yes it is, Sansa, and I'd sure as bloody hells like to know how Littlefucker found that out."
"Forgive me, Sandor but he never said who told him...I knew you certainly didn't. At the time I didn't want to ask. I was just relieved when Father returned and he moved behind us."
Patting her hands, Sandor clears his throat. "I'll tell you the truth of it, lass. Gregor burned me when I was six years old...I've never spoken of it until now. I had a beautiful sister, Sarah...she was three years older than me and she took care of me while I recovered." He smiles briefly at the thought of her. "She used to make up funny songs to sing to me when the pain would become unbearable..."
Nodding sadly, Sansa squeezes his hands, urging him to continue. Clearing his throat, Sandor swallows hard and draws in a deep breath before going on. "She...she died, when I was nine, just before her twelfth nameday. She fell down the stairs to her death; an accident, my parents said. But I knew. I knew they were lying, the same way they lied about my burns to the bloody maester." Sandor snarls bitterly.
"I am sorry, my love," Sansa whispers sadly while rubbing his hands soothingly.
"Not long after, my mother died, and my father three years after her. No one would tell me what happened but I always knew in my heart Gregor was somehow responsible for their deaths." Sandor spits out, his eyes darkening with fury. Stepping away from Sansa suddenly, Sandor clenches his fists in fury, turning his back to her so she cannot see his rage.
My poor, beloved Sandor. Sansa closes her eyes, trying to process the horror of his words. She always imagined his scars must have a fearsome story behind them, but the level of suffering he has endured at the hands of his own flesh and blood is unimaginable. Gods help him...he needs you now more than ever, she prays silently, feeling the rage pouring off of his body. His wrath is almost palpable, as though speaking of his past have given life to his fury.
Sansa offers no words of consolation, neither does she reach out to her troubled husband. Having experienced losing a parent in an untimely and unjust death at the hands of a monster has taught her there are no words, no actions to heal such a profound level of pain and suffering, so instead she prays silently as Sandor broods while staring outside at the weather. Please Gods...hear me, give me the words he needs to hear now.
A brilliant flash of lightning lights up the sky followed by sound of thunder rumbling off in the distance, breaking the mood. Sandor lowers his head and sighs deeply before turning to face her once more. "Seven save me, I...I can't go through that again. I can't do it...I can't lose anyone else I love," Sandor chokes out bitterly.
Sansa's eyes fill with tears, finally comprehending what her husband is trying to tell her. "You...you're afraid you'll lose me. Now that we're married and truly family to each other, you're afraid you will lose me just as you lost your family," she whispers. Sandor nods and runs his hands through is hair, refusing to meet her eyes. "Aye, you have the right of it, wife."
Does he mean to leave? No, no, no; it is unthinkable; he would not do that-would he? "Do you...do you mean to leave me before something bad happens and you lose me?" Sansa gasps out, weeping the words in fear.
Sandor snaps his head up and rushes over to her; kneeling down, he hurriedly takes her in his arms. "No! Bloody hells…no, Little Bird I'm not going to leave you. Shh, don't cry love...bugger me, I didn't mean I would leave you, Sansa, you must believe me," he swears, kissing away her tears as Sansa sobs in relief.
"Forgive me, wife, I didn't mean to scare you. Look at me: I will never, EVER leave you. I swear it on every one of your fucking gods and on my sister's grave," Sandor growls low, holding her chin firmly, all the while thinking his beloved looks more like her namesake than ever, like a trembling, scared little bird who tumbled out of its nest.
"Tell me you trust me, Sansa; tell me you know I will never leave you," Sandor gently wipes away her remaining tears with his thumb and, lifting her gently into his lap, he wraps his arms around her tightly.
"I…I do believe you, Sandor; it just seemed like that is what you meant."
"Forgive me, Little bird, I'm not good with words. The whole reason I'm telling you this because I think you...you deserve to know why I reacted like I did when you brought up your family."
"Sandor, my love, I do understand now... it isn't so different from the way I feel. Having watched my father executed...the beatings I received from the knights...or the way those men hurt me in King's Landing-it has all been so very traumatizing and I well know we both have inner scars from our respective sufferings. You and I both have so much to heal and we will, together," she muses, lifting her hand to stroke the burned side of his cheek tenderly.
"How can you love me...when you know what I did to your father?" He asks solemnly, averting his eyes. "None of us knew what Joffrey was up to, not even Cersei. But that doesn't change the fact that it was me that guarded him and pushed him forward for Ilyn Payne, you know. I was a pathetic dog to go along with it."
"You mustn't say that; I can never forget a single detail of that day as long as I live...but believe me when I say that I never for one moment blamed you!" Sansa sobs, tears spilling down her face once more. "No one, not you or anyone else-could have controlled Joffrey that day. He became an absolute madman after his Father died and if you had disobeyed his orders your head would have been on the spike next to my father. I would have lost the both of you in the same day! It's too horrible to even imagine."
Sandor dares to raise his eyes, finally allowing himself to believe she never blamed him to begin with. The soft pattering sound of raindrops falling on the forest floor soon give way to a steady driving rain, the rhythmic sound filling their enclosure.
As Sansa speaks her next words, she gazes into his eyes while caressing his face. "Please, let me love you Sandor. Give our love a chance. Please, don't let fear shut me out of your heart. You are the only one who has ever loved me for me, without some ulterior motive on my claims or connections, besides my father. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone in my entire life."
Kissing both sides of his face, Sansa tenderly runs her hands through his hair. "Nothing will ever separate us, you must trust me. I won't stand for it," Sansa says emphatically, staring deep into his eyes. "I will never love another; it is impossible, you must believe that." Placing her hand over his heart, Sansa begins rubbing soothing circles over his chest, and he responds by covering her hand with his own.
"I know my family loves me but I am not ignorant of the fact that as much as they love me, they desire power even more. I would never allow my brother to part us, nor will I play the dutiful sister to make up for his mistakes. I am finished being used as a pawn," Sansa continues sadly, her voice taking on an air of determination. There's a wolf in the little bird after all, Sandor thinks, his face twitching into a small grin. My beautiful little wolf-bird.
"I would sooner never go to my family rather than risk being separated from you. I swear it on my father's grave and on the old gods and the new," Sansa whispers to him. Before she finishes speaking Sandor passionately kissed her, holding her close to his chest. Raising her hands to his face, she feels the wetness of his tears coursing down his cheeks.
"Aye, I believe you would, lass," he mutters sheepishly.
"No more tears or sadness, I beg of you. We are on our honeymoon and I wish to give you a surprise now," she smiles shyly, pulling away from him. Reaching into her bag Sansa takes out the favor she made, smoothing it out carefully before handing it to him.
"What is this?" he asks, unfolding the material.
"A Northern tradition, dearest: it is my wedded gift to you, to serve as a symbol of my commitment and my wedded vows," Sansa softly answers with a smile, her cheeks blushing as she speaks.
"A marriage favor!" Sandor gasps incredulously while admiring the intricate detail of his house sigil embroidered in black thread on the yellow material. "I haven't seen one of these since I was a boy. My father was of the north and my mother gave one to him on their wedded day. When did you make this?" Sandor asks delightedly, taking note of the little bird fluttering above the dog while carefully running his finger over their names embroidered in each corner.
"I began working on it for you after saved me. When we spoke in the Red Keep...I kept it hidden next to my heart, in hopes that one day we might be wed," Sansa laughs, thrilled he is so pleased with her gift. She never before has seen him so genuinely excited over anything and it is so uncharacteristic she is pleased to see he feels free to express himself this way to her.
"Do you remember how it's meant to be worn?" Sansa whispers shyly.
"Next to my heart," Sandor kisses her softly before tucking it inside his tunic and scooping her up in his arms. "I will wear it proudly and treasure it all my days."
"Now it's your turn to be surprised, Little bird. Close your eyes and hold out your hands, and I'd better not catch you peeking!" Sandor growls at her as he lays his sister's ring in her open palm.
"Oh Sandor, how beautiful! I love it!" Sansa shrieks in delight, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him soundly. "Here," he says, taking her left hand in his and placing the ring on her finger. "It was my sisters' ring and before that it was my mothers' engagement present. Sarah would have loved you; she would have wanted you to have it. Let this be a symbol of my wedded vows to you. Whenever you look at it, remember that I will love and protect you forever," he solemnly promises, kissing her hand and taking her into his arms.
"Oh, thank you my love! I will treasure it always, as I treasure you, my husband," Sansa whispers against his lips before covering his mouth with her own. Taking him by the hand, she leads him over to the bedrolls, loosens the laces of her dress and shrugs it off her shoulders. Sitting down on the bedroll in only her smallclothes, Sansa beckons him to join her. Sandor stares at her with his mouth slightly agape and at her beckoning he quickly moves next to her, watching her closely. "I want you, Sandor...I need you. Take me, husband...please," she whispers, lifting his tunic over his head.
My sweet, beautiful Little Bird, fairly begging me to take her...Sandor hardly believes it. He swiftly removes her smallclothes and settles her on his lap facing him. Sansa kisses his lips and then lets her mouth trail below his ear, gently running her tongue along his skin as she caresses the nape of his neck; Sandor cups her face in his hands and kisses her long and slow in return. Sliding his tongue inside her mouth, Sansa moans while Sandor slowly explores her, sucking lightly on her tongue as his kisses turn demanding and deep.
Sansa allows her hands to trail along his chiseled warrior's body, running her fingers through the hair on his chest and stomach and stopping just above the waistband of his breeches. Smiling shyly at him, Sansa reaches down to untie his laces, her fingers brushing against his hardened manhood and causing Sandor to moan loudly. Laying him back among the furs, she tentatively wraps her hands around the length of his manhood, slowly exploring its length with one hand while her fingertips spread his moisture over the tip of the head with the other.
Sandor's breathing grows ragged as Sansa rests her cheek on his stomach, her breath warm upon his manhood before running her tongue wetly over his hardened length. Languidly she licks him several times before suckling the tip leisurely. The feel of her lush mouth causes Sandor to gasp loudly and his whole body begins trembling with pleasure. Roughly he turns Sansa over onto her back, causing her to squeal in surprise. "As much as I'm enjoying this, I...I can't last like this, Little bird." He kisses her long and deeply and when he finally breaks away he leaves her gasping for air, the sight of her red and swollen mouth eliciting another long moan from Sandor.
Quickly he moves down her body to her breasts, kissing and suckling her perfect pink nipples until Sansa pants with desire, arching her back as her body begs for more. "Such an eager little bird," he rasps against her skin, burying his face between her breasts. Sandor too is panting in desperate need and he pauses for a moment to regain control of his body before inching his way down her stomach and stopping just above her woman's place.
Lying before him so wet and delicious, Sansa's self-conscious laughter soon dissolves into a long moan and she trembles with anticipation, realizing what her husband means to do next. Reaching under her thighs, he pulls her body toward him, and seeing her exposed in such a way fills Sandor with a new type of hunger. Unable to resist tasting her, he presses his fingers against her folds, opening up her body to him. Groaning, he slides his tongue over the length of her slit several times.
Suddenly Sansa cries out and arches her back into him once more, grinding her hips against him with abandon, her shy nervous laughter forgotten. Encouraged by her heated response, Sandor draws circles around her swollen nub with his tongue. Heat floods her entire body and Sansa gasps at the feeling of Sandor thrusting his tongue inside of her, the unexpectedly intense pleasure taking the young woman by surprise.
Her whole body teeters on the edge as Sandor begins moveing rhythmically in and out of her woman's place with his tongue. Screaming out his name, Sansa arches her back as she finds her release, her whole body tensing with pleasure while Sandor continues tasting her, allowing her ride out her peak.
"Come into me, my love," Sansa whispers, drawing his body on top of her. Panting heavily, he positions himself between her legs, teasing his manhood at her entrance several times before thrusting part of his length deep inside of her. Her inner walls throb around him and grip his member tightly, sending an almost painful pleasure through his loins and Sandor remains still, allowing Sansa's body to stretch to accommodate his length.
Crying out his name once more, Sansa digs her nails into his back and at the sound of her sobbing in pleasure Sandor is no longer able to hold back; thrusting more of his length into her in a hard and fast rhythm. Sandor's movements feed off her passion, her hips moving frantically to match his pace. Soaked with her arousal, Sandor finally allows himself to sheathe his entire length deep inside of her, causing Sansa to shriek with a mixture of pain and pleasure while grinding against him. Ecstasy washes over him, her tight wet center gripping him tightly and sending waves of pleasure surging through his body, bringing a sudden and powerful release slamming into him. The couple shouts their release with abandon as they reach completion together, their cries of ecstasy echoing off the walls of their enclosure.
Gasping for breath, Sansa is overcome with emotion. Tears of joy and relief fall from her eyes and the satisfaction of sharing such an intimate act of love paired with giving Sandor everything at last sates her heart as well as her body. They had made love so deeply, with such utter abandon...she completely expressed all of her love and passion for him with her body, and she loved every minute of it.
Sandor once again lay trembling in her arms, not in a passion polluted with fear, but with being utterly and completely filled up by his love for her. His beloved wife has satisfied his every desire and his mind as well as his body has found absolute fulfillment in her.
Sansa feels his tears of joy falling on her breasts as she holds him close against her body. Longing to prolong their intimate connection, Sansa is unwilling to separate from her beloved husband just yet and instead she cradles his head in her arms, keeping her legs wrapped around him tightly just as she had done before.
"Do you believe in my love now Sandor? Can you feel it in your heart as well as your body?" Sansa softly whispers into his hair.
"I've never been more sure of anything in all my life Little bird. I…I love you, now and forever," he chokes out, overwhelmed with emotion.
Drowsiness soon overcomes the happy couple. Their sated bodies completely spent, they fall asleep in the position they lay after their lovemaking to the soothing sound of the rain falling outside.