Getting nearer to the end now. Just a few more chapters to go, this one included. I hope I've continued to do these two lovebirds justice!

Sansa:

Sansa and Sandor rode that way for two days. Sansa tried to relieve Sandor as he relieved her, but he would not let her. She tried to turn around in his arms and face him so she could get at his manhood, but he would hold her tightly and tell her, gently, "no, love." Sansa was upset that he wouldn't let her touch him, but she was not in a position to complain or to do anything about it. Still, as the hours passed by, she felt herself grow wet for him again and again. She would not ask him to touch her, but he always would. It was like he could sense it, even when she did not start shifting and moving about.

Sansa also tried getting Sandor to stop, but he would not. Why is he riding so hard? I know he wants to keep me safe, but I don't know if I'm ready to face my family yet. I wish Sandor and I could just disappear until everything goes back to normal. I wish we could just live peacefully together. Happily. We could make each other happy. We already do. It is so simple. All my family will do is complicate things. She was not in a position to talk about this with Sandor, though, not as they rode.

Finally, after two days of this torture, Sandor brought Stranger to a stop. Sansa was sore and hurting from riding, and so tired. Sandor cannot be much better, she thought. They had stopped in a secluded part of the wood, a few miles east of a small village. Sansa had hoped they might stay there, at an inn again, but Sandor had other plans. He found a cave, very much like the first they had stayed in. It was isolated and near to a small lake, which was where Sandor carried her when they dismounted.

Exhausted though she was, Sansa was grateful to be getting clean. Sandor had stripped her gently and then himself, and walked them into the lake, holding on to her tightly. He had washed them using the soap he bought from the village they had left. He scrubbed her hair softly, lingeringly. He washed her body like he was worshipping it. Predictably, Sansa grew wetter and wetter, and Sandor was hard, but he did not seem interested in that. She found that she wasn't either, not really. There would be time for that, after they were clean and rested.

Sansa helped Sandor wash as best as she could, trying to be as thorough and delicate as he was with her, but she was too drained to be much help. He chuckled at her and kissed her and called her "love." I don't know which endearment I like better any more: Little Bird, or love. Both. He should call me both, always.

They dried and dressed and Sandor carried her back to their cave, her head resting lazily on his chest.

"Well, what do we have here? A Hound and a Princess, alone in the woods. Who would have thought?" A menacing voice found her ears and terror filled her heart. Her head jerking up, Sansa saw that they were surrounded by enemies.

Fuck.

Sandor had not noticed the men as he walked his Little Bird back from their bath. He had not noticed that they were being followed at all. How the hells did you let that one slip, dog?

He did not recognize the men, but they recognized him. They were wearing Lannister red, though, so it was not a surprise that they knew him. There were six of them. Won't be enough. He glared at them, ominously, his mouth twitching wildly. He wanted to laugh.

Gently, Sandor put his Little Bird on her feet, where she promptly sunk to her knees. He wanted to tell her not to worry. He wanted to tell her that there was nothing to fear, nothing would hurt her. He could cleave through this group of buggering bastards without breaking a sweat. Lucky you still have your sword on you, dog. At least you haven't gone completely stupid. But he didn't want them to get hasty and charge him early. He didn't like that she had to be in the middle of this. Aye, you'll give her nightmares from this, dog, but you'll protect her.

"What did you do, Hound? Steal her away like a dog with his bone? Was she tasty? I can't wait to find out." Mouthpiece. Fucker. This one dies last.

"Too bloody bad, about that then, fucker. You won't. Besides who ever sent you after us won't be happy about you ruining the Princess here. She is valuable, and more valuable intact. I haven't touched her, anyway."

"Not man enough, Clegane?"

"Fuck that. Not stupid enough. I'm delivering her back to her kingly brother for the ransom. No ransom if she's damaged."

"Doesn't matter anymore, Hound. Haven't you heard? Her brother is dead. No more King in the North. The Freys killed him and his bitch mother. Even his evil wolf. I heard they sewed the beast's head on the Stark boy's body." The men all laughed at that.

Sandor felt his Little Bird seize up at his feet. He wanted to hold her then, but he had other things to deal with.

"Besides, we weren't looking for the girl. That's a bonus. We were looking for you. Seems the Lannister's want their favorite dog back. Seems they want to be the ones to put him down after he turned into a fucking craven and ran with his tail between his legs. What do you think about that?" The mouthpiece was smiling real big now. Smug bastard. You'll have a red smile when I'm done with you, along with other things. "Then we all hear about some big burned bastard staying with a beautiful little daughter a few villages away. Lucky us! Two for one. We'll sell you both back to the Lannisters. And now that the Starks are all finished, no one will care if this little beauty has a bastard in her belly for our troubles." More laughter.

"Aye, you can try that. Won't matter though. You're already dead." And before they could blink, Sandor's sword was unsheathed and tearing through the body closest to him. Cocky bastards, think that six to one is an advantage. He had hacked two before the third even got his sword in the air. That one got his head cut in two.

Number four was the first to put up a fight. Sandor retreated back towards his Little Bird so number five and the fucking mouthpiece couldn't get at her. Number four was pretty good, but not nearly good enough. Sandor had his arm off and was crushing his neck with his hand by the time five got involved. Sandor all but tore four's throat out and turned to five and mouthpiece. He drew them away from his Little Bird, who was shaking on the ground, covered in blood. At least it's not her own or yours, dog. She'll thank you for that soon.

Five and mouthpiece tried to attack him at once, but they were not good at it. Mouthpiece's sword bit Sandor's arm, but not deep enough to bother him. Dead, they just don't know it yet. Five realized it soon though, when Sandor's longsword slashed at his stomach and came away with his guts. Sandor couldn't stop himself from laughing then.

Finally, it was just him and the mouthpiece. Sandor enjoyed the terror that was on his face.

"That's right, fucker. Six of you and you're all that's left and not one of you could touch me. Stupid bastard, what were you thinking? Should've known better than to threaten a rabid dog. You'll die for that. And threatening the girl, there? That's why you'll die slowly, and screaming."

Sandor liked to keep his promises. And he did. Briefly, Sandor wished he could have spared his Little Bird this sight, these sounds. But she was already in shock it seemed, laying on the ground hugging herself. His heart almost broke then. So he took out his anger on the fucking mouthpiece. He killed him slowly and viciously. Gregor would be proud, he thought, bitterly. He unarmed him easily, but cutting off his arm at the middle. That was the first of many flying appendages. He drew his blade across the mouthpiece's body as much as possible, trying hard not to kill him with any one stroke. Finally, after splitting the mouthpiece open from his belly to his throat, he drew his sword across his neck, silencing the screams and leaving him twitching in death.

Sandor felt better.

Until he turned to face his Little Bird.

She was where he left her, hugging herself and muttering. What the fuck do you do now, dog? Sandor didn't know about how to get delicate Little Birds back to their senses. And why would she want to be? She just found out that her family is now completely dead. Then she got to see your true colors while you took joy in slaughtering these fucking rats.

Sandor believed the mouthpiece's news. He would find out more, but there was no reason to lie. Besides, Sandor was never comfortable with the idea of the Stark boy going to the Twins in the first place. For once, Sandor hated being right. Hated that his Little Bird had to suffer this lesson. She had suffered too many. Stupid fucking Stark. I'd kill you again for hurting my Little Bird this way.

And now she was shivering and muttering and completely withdrawn. Fuck dog. You have to do something! So he did the only thing he could think to do. She was covered in gore, so he took her back to the lake. He took her clothes off of her gently, and his own followed. He had taken a blanket to wrap her in after their first bath, so he wrapped her back in that. He wanted all the evidence of his brutality gone. He burned their clothes. It took only moments for him to start a fire (fucking fires) and for the blood-soaked clothes to catch. They had spare clothes, he would dress them in that after.

He walked his Little Bird back into the lake. He held her tightly and started washing the blood off of her. He started with her hair and worked his way down. In minutes, it was like nothing ever happened. She was clean and fresh again, but still far away from him.

"Come back to me, Little Bird," he whispered, as soothingly as he could, while he rubbed her back. She slumped against him but nothing more.

He made quick work of his own washing, then got out, and wrapped her back in a blanket. He carried her back to their cave, this time avoiding the place where he had massacred the Lannister men.

He laid her in the cave and got their clothes. He started another fucking fire, to warm his Little Bird. She had stopped muttering, but still held herself and shook. She stared into the fire and it looked like she would be happy to throw herself into it.

Sandor sat there, holding her, feeling frustratingly useless. He didn't know how to get her to snap out of it. He figured time would be the best thing, but he wasn't sure. So he sat with her and held her. He told her stories, things he had wanted her to know about him. About his childhood. He told her about his grandfather and his father. Told her about growing up with Gregor. Told her about how happy he was to get into Lannister service and away from Gregor.

He told her, too, about how his world had changed when she came into his life. How she had fucked everything up-the life he had known, the future he had wanted. He told her how he had loved her since then, even if he didn't realize it. He told her how much he loves her now. He had never spoken so much in his entire life.

By the time Sandor had finished talking, the light of the fire had burned low. There were tears, now, staining Sansa's cheeks, and Sandor gently wiped them away. He pulled her down to him and held her close. Finally, Sansa let out an almost otherworldly scream. It lasted for a long time, it seemed, before the scream became broken sobs and wails. He could feel her tears saturate his chest. She went back and forth between beating wildly against him with her fists and clutching him tightly, enough to draw blood in her desperation. Sandor just lay there and hushed her as best as he could and as soothingly as he could.

"It'll be alright, Little Bird. I love you. It will be alright. I'm here. It will be alright." It was all he could do.

Eventually, Sansa passed out from her exhaustion. Sandor kept holding her. He held her as she awoke a few hours later, screaming again, and confused.

"I want my mother! I want to see Robb!" she cried. It nearly broke his heart in two to tell her she couldn't. Never again. My poor Little Bird. This may have broken her for good. He didn't want to believe that it did, but he knew it wouldn't matter. You won't leave her, dog, not ever.

So he did the best he could and kept telling her that he was here and wouldn't let her go.

They did that all night and well into the next day before Sansa finally passed out for good. She slept and slept and slept. Sandor stayed with her throughout most of it, leaving her briefly to check and see that no one came searching for the six bastards he had killed.

No one did.

Finally, after what felt like years, Sandor was dozing off, his Little Bird in his arms, and he heard a little broken whisper.

"Sandor?" she said.

He sighed, heavily, and even felt some tears prick the back of his eyes when he looked down and saw her staring at him, her eyes wide and bloodshot. "Little Bird," he answered.

Sansa could not believe what she was hearing. Robb, dead. Her mother, dead. All of them now. Arya was lost and probably dead. Jon Snow, a bastard on the Wall. But family, still. Maybe the only family you have left. Bran and Rickon, murdered in Winterfell. Father, beheaded because of her. All your fault, Sansa. All of this. Father would have never been killed if you hadn't run to Cersei. And then none of the rest of this would have happened. You killed your family. Everyone you've ever loved. And now you may have killed Sandor.

Looking around, Sansa noticed that there were six men and only one Sandor. How can he beat this many? You'll have killed him too. More trouble than you're worth, Sansa Stark. A curse, that's what you are.

She folded in on herself then. She noticed, dimly, when she heard bodies being hacked. When she felt the warm spray of blood coating her skin. When she heard the sounds and smelt the smells of death. She did not notice being carried and washed. She was too far gone.

She was still far gone when she heard a rough, rasping voice telling her stories. She liked stories. Always did. She tried to listen to them and she did, sometimes. They were sad stories, she thought, and they made her want to cry, so she did. She had a lot of crying to do, it seemed. Everything was so sad.

Then she was tired. Then angry. Then sad. Then mad. She felt like she would explode. She wanted to. It would have felt better than this.

Throughout it all, there was something soothing in the background, though. Sansa couldn't exactly tell what it was, but she knew it was there, keeping her together. She was thankful for that.

Then nothing. For a long time. Nothing. Until she woke up. She knew she was in Sandor's arms. Of course. He is keeping you safe. He stayed with you. She didn't move for a long time after she woke. She listened to Sandor's breathing and thought back about what had happened. She was heartbroken, certainly. Her family was all but gone now. Such tragedy was almost too much for her to bear, but she was alive. Sadness could not kill her. She thought about Sandor then. Her loyal, loving Sandor. It strengthened her. She hadn't killed him. He was alive and well and with her. It was something to hold on to. Something to live for.

So she looked up at him from where she lay against his chest and said his name. He looked as if he could cry when she did.

Instead of speaking, she leaned up and kissed him. It was all she could do. She needed to feel something good and something real after being lost inside herself for so long. He kissed her back slowly and sweetly.

"I love you, Sandor," she said.

"I love you too, my Little Bird," he replied.

They had stayed another night in the cave. Sandor was deciding what to do. Sansa did not want to go to Riverrun now, she had said.

"What is there for me, now? A grandfather and uncle I've never met? Besides, they have nothing left to fight for. They will be loyal to the Iron Throne again. As they should be."

She had a point.

He offered to take her north, back to Winterfell. He offered to rebuild it with his own hands, brick by brick if it would make her happy.

"You make me happy," she had said. "You're the only thing I need." I love you, Little Bird.

So he decided to get out of Westeros for the time being. They needed to get somewhere the Hound and Sansa Stark could disappear, at least until the Seven Kingdoms calmed down, and one ruler overthrew the rest. Then they could regroup and decide whether to return. Sandor wanted to stay somewhere they would be able to hear news about Westeros, just in case, but somewhere safe and far. He decided to bring his Little Bird to Pentos, to start out with.

They travelled for a month, and Sandor was glad that the time was starting to heal his Little Bird. It was slow, and it would take a long time, but she woke up less and less frequently screaming during the night. She smiled more for him now. She had more passion again.

I'll wait and keep waiting, Little Bird. Until you are better, he kept telling himself.

It was difficult for him, he was ashamed to admit, that being without his Little Bird physically was draining him. She had gone from insatiable to untouchable. Not that he tried often. He wanted to give her space and time, and, as brutish as he was, he could not be rough with his Little Bird. So when she would slow her kissing and shift her body away from his own, he didn't rush her, didn't bark at her. He gave her what she needed without pressing his own desires. But it was hard. He was a man grown, after all, and hot-blooded at that. And she still clung to him so desperately and so closely, he could not ignore his body's reactions.

The tension finally burst two days before they were to board a ship to Pentos. They were staying at an inn, pretending to be husband and wife, and laying in bed. Sansa had sighed into him and pressed herself close, and Sandor got ready for another night of frustrated desires as his cock hardened. Instead, Sansa looked up at him and started talking.

"Sandor, when can I be your wife in truth?"

Fucking hells, what is she talking about?

"What do you mean, Little Bird?"

"Before...before everything that happened at the Twins, all I wanted was for us to be together. For us to be wedded so we could stay together and make a life together. So much has changed, now, but that has not. I know that I haven't been...well I haven't been very loving towards you. I do though. Love you. With everything I am. And I still want to be your wife in truth. Do you think we can get married when we get to Pentos, Sandor? Would you want to marry me, still?" She had looked so shy and innocent when she spoke. She sounded so much like the Little Bird he stole from King's Landing again.

So he chuckled at her, like he always used to and said, "Aye, Little Bird. I'll marry you in Pentos."

She smiled more brightly than he had seen in over a month, so he could not stop himself from kissing her passionately, as hard as he could, and pressing himself into her.

"I love you, Little Bird," he groaned into her mouth.

"I love you, too. I've missed this, my love." Her hands were working at his breeches and her mouth was sure upon his own.

"I've missed this too, Sansa, so fucking much. Are you ok, though? Is this ok?"

"Yes, yes. I need this. I feel alive like this. More alive than I've felt in a month. Please, Sandor." His breeches were down, his smallclothes with them, and he was kicking them out of his way as she pulled her own smallclothes off herself. Fucking hells. Has she always been this fucking beautiful, dog? She had been, he decided.

Sansa hated how distant she had become with Sandor. She had not been able to control herself, before, but since news of her brother and mother's deaths she could not bear his closeness. She felt almost dead inside. She did not want to pull him into that.

So she had stayed away and kept away as much as she could. Sharing blankets was difficult for her, knowing how badly he wanted her and feeling how badly she wanted him back but not feeling ready to do anything about it. It had almost driven her crazy.

Finally, though, she felt herself stirring again. It had started slowly and built gradually. It peaked at a small inn. Sandor had grunted at the innkeeper, demanding a room for him and his wife. Hearing those words come out of his mouth was like a jolt of lightning for Sansa. I want to be his wife. It is all I want in the world, anymore. He is the only thing that I want.

Then they had gone to bed and Sansa could not stop herself from sighing into Sandor. She could not stop herself from pressing into his body as much as she could. After close to a month with barely any physical contact, it was like she was starved. Her feelings and desires surged back to her with a vengeance, so much more powerful than she had ever felt before. Sansa was tired of her sadness and grief. She wanted happiness and peace, and she knew Sandor was the only person who could give that to her; the only person she would ever want to share it with.

So she spoke to him, about marriage, and found herself proposing. That is supposed to be his job, Sansa! She didn't care though. There was nothing to be coy about. They had resigned their fates to each other when they first met, she realized. It was always going to be this way. It is better this way. Just him and me and nothing else to worry about. We can be happy this way, if I just let us. Father, mother, Robb, Arya, Bran, and even little Rickon would have never wanted you miserable. You will remember them, always, and honor them, always. You've taken enough time to sulk and grieve. Now it is time to live again.

Sandor told her he'd marry her and her heart nearly burst it filled so quickly. She had not been this happy in her entire life, she decided, even despite the pain she was still in from losing everyone else she had loved. You still have him. You'll always have him.

When Sandor kissed her, for the first time in a long time Sansa knew she needed more. He was hesitant, always so quick to worry about her; to try to protect her. She all but ripped the clothes from their bodies. She would not be ignored and she would not be sidetracked. They had waited long enough.

"Sandor," she breathed into his mouth, "make me yours."

Yeah, I'm kind of mean. Next chapter will have an actual consummation, not more teasing, I swear! Hopefully these two can do the main event successfully and with just as much heat as all the rest...

Not much more to go from here, though, so thanks again for those of you who have followed this story! I hope I can end it strong!