Chapter 2.
Sansa felt as if she had been blinded and become deaf at the same moment.
They have caught the Hound!
She jumped up from her chair so quickly that it was pushed against the wall and gave a loud alarming sound. Sansa did not care about it. She picked up her skirt elegantly and gracefully as her mother and her septa had taught her and she hurried downstairs, out to the yard with such a speed that those two wonderful ladies would have never approved. Andrew started to run after her, not wondering about the reason of her excitement.
That was a really fantastic piece of news: the Hound has just been caught.
Sansa could not believe her ears, still she did not ask anything. She had to see with her own eyes what was waiting for her. Her feet were almost flying above the many stairs and landings, leading to the front gate, and even though her left side started to burn, she did not stop for a second.
The closer she got to the round yard, covered with pure fresh snow that had been falling slowly since early morning, the louder the noise and stirring became. She heard more and more voices, female, male and childish voices, everyone sounded so excited as if a dragon had arrived at Winterfell. All the people must have stopped their daily duties and run to gather to see the miracle.
Is it real, she wondered, is it really real? That he is here? At my dear home, at Winterfell? How come he returned? How come he was alive at all? They told me that he was dead. People were still talking about the Fall of King's Landing, about the many deaths, about the corpses of the Clegane Brothers. How their dead bodies were frozen into a deadly embrace, with Sandor Clegane lying at the top of his giantlike brother, Gregor. How their faces and bodies were bloody and broken, and the pieces of the Mountain's brain splattered the stone blocks around his swollen purple head.
She felt really sad about Sandor Clegane's death, she hoped that he had not suffered much, but she felt pure joy hearing what had happened to Gregor, because she knew that without him, there were one less monster left in the world.
It cannot be true, it cannot be true… she whispered while picking up her feet so quickly as if she had had to run on burning hot stones.
When Sansa entered the yard and finally saw the man, kneeling in the snow, looking around with those familiar dark eyes of his, burning in mad rage - her heart stopped beating and the air disappeared from her lungs.
It was him.
Sandor Clegane. The Hound. The bodyguard and the merciless killing machine of the late King Joffrey. The warrior who had murdered so many people on the battlefields, on the roads of Westeros, in the deserted villages, everywhere where he was commanded to kill. Sandor Clegane. The only man, who defended her from Joffrey's madness. The only man, who saved her from being raped after Princess Myrcella's leaving for Dorne. The only man, who wanted to help her escape from King's Landing and return to Winterfell to her mother, without any ulterior motives.
He looked still so huge and rough, even without his massive shining armour that he used to wear in the royal court, even bending above his knees, in the middle of her people, circling around him. He was wearing dark grey, almost black ragged clothes, a big thick coat, dirty trousers and such old boots that seemed to fall into pieces in any moment. Those spots on the fabric could have been the remains of blood, mud, food and dirt. His hands were chained behind his back and when Sansa stepped into the snow, he looked up and their eyes met. His long black hair looked so dirty and greasy falling on his wide shoulders, his dark brown eyes were filled with blazing fury and hatred, his sharp yellowish teeth became visible behind his parting lips, and the burnt half of his face shone blood red and frightening just as always.
In the middle of the almost lighting snow, at bright daylight, the remains of the fire, the sharply cut scars were even more visible and even more shockingly scary, as they contorted his features brutally. Most people did not dare to look into his face, but Sansa dared and did. She was watching even the tiniest piece of his face, all the scars, the burnt skin, his ears – one of them intact, the other one destroyed from the fire almost completely, looking like a crushed leaf of rotten lettuce as his thin hair, brushed aside, did not hide it. He must have lived and suffered so much, only the gods knew how he had been able to survive the fight with his brother and the fall from the top of the castle, still he was completely unbroken in his rage.
Sandor Clegane could not frighten her anymore. All she felt for the man was gratitude and deep pity but she was trying hard to conceal the latter one because she did not want to insult him. She owed him so much that possibly she would have never been able to pay back.
Before Sansa could have opened her mouth, Sandor Clegane spoke on a rasping tone that had always been a characteristic of him.
- The little bird… You have grown a lot.
His lips did not smile, but in his dark eyes under the heavy eyebrows she seemed to notice that kind of tenderness that sometimes she had been able to discover when he had looked at her at Joffrey's court.
Ser Thomas, the tall, ginger-haired man, the strongest of her warriors, who was standing at Sandor's right side, slapped him hard on the neck.
- She is Lady Stark for you, you damned beast, mind your tongue.
Sandor drew his neck in, then looked up at the man with such a murderous glance that would have terrified most people to death.
Sansa was trying hard to keep her temper. She always hated violence and she especially hated to see Sandor Clegane being hit by anyone.
- Ser Thomas, would you be so kind to treat our guest with a little more kindness, please?
- Is he our guest? – Ser Thomas's sound became unmanly thin from anger and a few red blotches turned up on his cheeks.
Sansa did not take her eyes off Sandor Clegane, who must have whispered some rude curses to Ser Thomas, because the redness disappeared quickly and he became rather pale. It was obvious that Ser Thomas was not afraid of anyone, especially not of a handcuffed man, but this was not the first time that the Hound was able to stir up some dread and anxiety around himself.
She walked closer to Sandor Clegane, smiling tenderly. She did not want to tower over him, reflecting any power above him, therefore she stopped three steps in front of him.
- Ser Sandor…
He straightened his back and replied on a dark, steamy voice, boring his eyes deeper into hers. His words sounded like a sheer rebuke.
- I am not a Ser…
Sansa's smile did not stop, even though she blushed softly. She remembered so well how he had always corrected people calling him "ser", keeping a great deal of disgust in his voice.
- I am sorry, I did not mean to hurt you.
- Women's brains work too slowly… - he groaned.
Ser Thomas lifted his hand up but before he could have slapped his prisoner again, he forced some manners on himself, noticing the warning in Sansa's glance.
- You should put him into the prison, my lady.
Sansa shook her head. Sandor's wicked words hurt her a little but she decided not to show it. She looked at her people one by one. She felt their anger and frustration, she knew that they wanted to punish Sandor Clegane for his past actions, but she was terribly tired of the past, not only her own, but everyone else's as well. We must leave the past behind or we will have no future, she thought. She tried to convince them to show some mercy and to behave.
- I do not want to put him into the prison. There are no charges against him, as far as I know.
- We all know who he is, and that is enough. – that was Ser James, Ser Thomas's uncle, who hated the Lannisters and the Cleganes with all his heart, long before some Lannister-soldiers murdered his first wife and his twins, then set his home in fire.
Sansa did not allow anyone to rule over her.
- And you all know that he defended my sister, Lady Arya and he defended me when I was in the court of the late King Joffrey.
- That sick little bastard… - someone hissed.
- The point is that Ser Clegane is… - Sansa lifted her voice up to be heard by everyone around.
- I am not a ser… - Sandor spat again but Sansa ignored it. As if he was trying to make me angry and lose my head, she thought bitterly, and he does not care that I am his only friend here. If I were not here now, he would be already dead and cold.
- The point is that Sandor Clegane is not our prisoner. Set him free, please. Right now.
She looked at Ser Thomas rather hard and he did not hesitate to set Sandor free from his chains, even though his face openly showed that he disagreed with Lady Stark's decision completely.
When Sandor Clegane stood up slowly, rubbing his wrists with an impatient groan, Sansa added:
- And before he leaves Winterfell, he will be given everything a guest could wish for and deserve. Delicious food, a hot bath, a good sleep and clean, new clothes. His injuries must be cleaned and dressed.
- Maybe he should need a new haircut too. – Ser Patrick, the youngest of her warriors, felt like commenting. He was famous for his witty sayings and funny jokes, but this time Sansa found no humour in his words.
Laughing and giggling was heard from every corner of the yard. Sansa looked around in a disapproving way while Sandor Clegane did not seem to care about that. He looked up at the dark grey sky and brushed his hair out of his scarred forehead.
- I do not think that mocking someone suits to a ser, Ser Patrick.
- Should I apologise, my lady? – Ser Patrick looked offended.
- Fuck your apologises… - Sandor spat, without looking at him. He was watching Sansa now, almost curiously.
I am sure that he still sees the naïve little girl in me, that was how he had always seen me at King's Landing, and now he cannot imagine how strong-minded I can be, she thought.
- I do not like vulgar words in my home – Sansa told him, looking into his eyes without any fear.
Sandor Clegane looked back at her with dark eyes and a much darker facial expression, then he rasped:
- Forgive me, Lady Stark.
Sansa gave him a tender smile, then ordered in a firm voice that Sandor Clegane must be accompanied to the guest room in the northern wing where hot bath, clean clothes, hot spicy wine and a freshly roasted chicken with potatoes should be waiting for him.