A couple of hours passed before Sandor returned to the Lord's bedchamber. His face was long, sorrowful, and looked as if he were in physical pain.

Sansa sat up from the bed, observing his body from head to toe, looking for a sign of injury or blood, but there was nothing there other than a physical display of his regret. Once Sansa confirmed he was not injured, she laid back down onto the bed and turned over onto her side, facing the stone wall.

How am I supposed to remain upset with him when he looks like that? But I cannot simply ignore what he said to me. Like a misbehaved child, he needs to learn his lesson. I am the Lady of Winterfell.

"Little bird," he sat on the opposite side of the bed. Sansa did not respond and instead pulled the furs up over her. "Sansa," he sighed. "Forgive me," he said miserably. A moment passed with nothing but the sounds of the coals in the brazier crackling. Sansa stared at the wall and wondered what her mother would do if her father had ever done such a thing to her. Sansa was not a naive little girl to think that husbands and wives never fought, but to disrespect her publicly was entirely different.

He fathered a bastard after they were wed and yet my mother seemed to forgive him. How can I not forgive Sandor for a gruff tone and angry words?

"Sometimes I wonder if the Hound didn't die on the Quiet Isle," he interrupted her thoughts. "Killing is not the same for me. That much I know. But the rage, the anger...I have been hateful all my life. I have been harsh, cruel, ill-mannered all my life. I thought if I repented for my sins, killed the Hound, I would become a different person. I used to be a killer, a cruel killer, now I am only cruel," he paused to take in a deep breath. Sansa wanted to interrupt him, console him, tell him he was not the Hound anymore, but she held back.

Until she heard the sound of him crying.

Sansa sat up abruptly and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, her breast pressed against his back. "Sandor," she whispered. "It is all right. It is all right," she assured him. The sound of him weeping shattered her heart; her pride was not worth teaching him a lesson when he clearly already learned from it.

Have I not made mistakes of my own? she thought.

Sandor turned around and grabbed her face into his hands, tears staining both sides of his face. "I had a dream, Sansa. A horrifying dream." His eyes bored into hers, causing her to grow apprehensive.

"What?" she asked, "what was it?"

"You," he paused, dropping his head down onto her shoulder. She felt his tears soak into the sleeve of her robe. His hand traveled from her face to the swell in her stomach and tenderly caressed it. "I can't lose you, or her. I can't," he sobbed.

Sansa lifted his head off her shoulder and wiped the tears away with her fingers. "You won't," she whispered. "It was a dream, Sandor. It was only a dream." Sansa had her own share of horrible dreams over the years: her father's beheading, Joffrey torturing her, Littlefinger raping her. She understood better than anyone what that could do to a person.

And I understand why he acted the way he did in the yard, though it was not right. I understand all too well. He is scared.

"Look at me," she said. "You are not the Hound. You are a good man. You are my husband." A single tear slid down her cheek. "No matter what, I am not leaving you. Whatever you saw, it was only a dream."

"They have a dragon, Sansa," he groaned. "If they win-" Sansa put a finger over his lips.

"We won't let them win. I will not abandon you, my northmen, or my family." Sansa grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly in her lap. "You are not just my husband, and I am not just your wife. We are a team. No more disrespect. You need to confide in me and I promise to do the same for you." Sansa could tell her words were bringing him comfort, for he was no longer crying and held onto her hands gently.

"Gods, I love you, little bird," he sighed, pulling her towards him to kiss her. She placed a hand over his mouth before his lips could touch hers.

"No more disrespect," she demanded. "Ever."

"I swear it by all the old gods and new gods," he muttered, pulling her hand away from his face.

"You don't believe in any of the gods."

"I will believe in every last bloody one of them for you," he whispered, pressing his lips onto hers. Sansa returned his embrace and let him press her body onto the bed underneath him. His hand traveled underneath her robe and noticed she was not wearing smallclothes, grunting at the touch of her bare sex on his fingers. His mouth left hers as he slid off the bed, resting his knees on the floor. He grabbed her thighs and pulled her ass to the edge of the bed as she laid on her back. Her head fell back against the furs at the sensation of his mouth meeting her sex. He grunted at the taste of her and eagerly licked up and down her folds. Sansa placed her fingers through his hair, tormented by the sensitivity of his tongue grazing her. His right hand traveled up to her breast and pulled it out from her robe. Since becoming with child, every touch seemed to feel more profound than before. He rubbed her bare nipple between his fingers and she could not hold herself back from peaking. Her thighs began to clench together until he used both of his hands to keep them apart, licking her wetness throughout the duration of her climax. She whimpered, moaned, and cried from the pleasure it brought her. It was not until he climbed back onto the bed and brought her in his arms did she become silent, drifting off to sleep.

Sansa awoke suddenly from the touch of a cold hand on her bare shoulder from where Sandor had pulled down her robe. When she opened her eyes, it was Arya who stood beside the bed.

"What are you doing?" Sansa whispered. Sandor managed to stay asleep, lightly snoring, despite her sister's entrance.

"Bran." Her sister sat on the bed beside her. "He was right. That dead dragon is one of them now," she sighed.

"He saw it? Are they still beyond the Wall?" Sansa asked anxiously.

Sandor startled awake at the sound of them talking and groaned once he saw Arya in the bed with them. He rubbed at his eyes and said groggily, "Seven Hells, why are you here?"

Arya frowned at him before shifting her gaze to meet Sansa's eyes. "The Wall is gone."