Chapter 8.
Sansa could not imagine what was going on inside Sandor's head.
For two days since their encounter in the Godswood, he was behaving really cold to her. He greeted her when they met but he avoided her company and when they were having their meals together (that was the only occasion when he didn't avoid her), he did not reply to any of her questions and he did not even look at her.
Sansa pretended not to be hurt by his coldness and his impoliteness but she actually felt some kind of strange pain. She could understand that the last time they had been talking, she had touched a very sensitive topic but it could not have been the reason for him to behave with her that way, as if she had been invisible. If it is so hard for him to be with me, she wondered, why he keeps on eating with me? He could have his meals in his own room if he wanted to, she added with a little disappointment.
However, she did not have much time to think about her guest's behaviour.
One night a tired and rather muddy soldier was riding into Winterfell. He was not more than twenty years old, young, fierce and brave enough to shout at the warriors at the gate to let him in quicker before he freezes to death. It was almost midnight and most people were already sleeping still he insisted on talking to Lady Stark immediately.
Ser Thomas walked to the gate in the deep mud as quick as possible, hearing the excited voice of the stranger. He was a patient and calm man, but he felt that something bad had happened and he wanted to know about it as soon as possible. He did not want to wake Sansa up and he was trying to make the soldier tell him his news instead when Sandor Clegane entered the yard yawning.
- What the hell is going on?
Ser Thomas looked annoyed at his presence but he tried to remain polite. He didn't like Clegane staying in Winterfell but he knew his Queen's wish well.
- It is nothing serious, ser…
Sandor spat on the ground.
- I am not a ser and there is fucking something if this girl wants to talk to Lady Stark so badly.
The young soldier looked at Sandor without a sound – he could recognise the Hound and he could also realise that he could have never defeated such a warrior but he was boiling with anger being called "girl".
Sandor looked at the soldier deeply.
- So? Did the cat run away with your tongue?
The soldier grabbed his sword harder though he did not intend to attack anyone.
- I must talk to Lady Stark and …
- Lady Stark is sleeping… - Ser Thomas started to speak when Sansa appeared at the door.
She did not look sleepy at all – she was still wearing the blood red dress she had been wearing at the dinner, and she did not even touch her hairstyle since then. She was looking at the three men as the Goddess of War.
- Well, I am not sleeping anymore. Come to the library, all of you, before you wake up the whole Winterfell.
None of the three men spoke – they all followed her in silence.
In the library there was warm, thanks to the well-tended fireplace and the two servant girls who took care of the fire and were now sleeping curling in the comfortable armchairs on both sides of the fireplace. One of them should have been always awake to pay attention on the fire but the wonderful warmth made them too sleepy.
When Sansa entered, both of the girls woke up immediately. Sansa asked their forgiveness and sent them to the kitchen for wine, bread and some chicken.
When all of the members of the little company were seated, she turned to the stranger.
- Who are you?
The young man stood up and took a deep bow.
- I am Bryan Longfellow, my Lady. I live in Deepwood Motte.
- You have made a long journey then. Please sit down and let me know, what do you need to share with me in the middle of the night?
- The Boltons, my Lady. – replied he after taking his seat again.
Sansa's eyebrows curled in surprise.
- The Boltons? What do you mean?
- They keep on attacking the villages, killing people, taking away their food and animals, everything. Then they burn the whole place down. – the more he spoke, the louder his voice became showing his anger.
Sansa leaned forward, grabbing her armchair.
- How come I have never heard about it before?
Ser Thomas joined her in bigger anger.
- And neither have I!
He leaned forward as well, while Sandor Clegane was sitting motionlessly like a stone statue, without any emotions on his face.
Bryan Longfellow shrugged his shoulder simply.
- I don't know. All I know that they killed my parents three days ago and they set our house into fire.
- How did you survive? – Sansa asked.
- I was out in the woods hunting. When I returned, I found my home destroyed.
- Then how do you know it was the Boltons?
- They left one of their men there. He was dead, shot by an arrow. He was wearing the Boltons' coat of arms. I know that disgusting picture. I have always hated it. – the young man's face showed pure disgust. - And I met people while riding here. Those people were telling me the same, that the Boltons destroyed their places and killed their people. They saw them with their own eyes.
Sandor Clegane spoke slowly now.
- That is why you have not heard about it.
Sansa looked at him curiously.
- What do you mean?
Sandor was looking at her while explaining as he was talking to a child.
- They are doing their nasty stuff on the edges, far from here. They know well that even if one person survives, he should make a long and dangerous journey to come to Winterfell and report their actions to you.
Ser Thomas had to agree.
- Clegane is right, Lady Stark. The roads are still dangerous, especially in winter. This lad is terribly lucky to be able to survive the journey through the Wolves Wood.
Sansa stood up – the men followed.
- It is time for you, Bryan, to have a hot bath and some warm meal in the northern guest room. Ser Thomas, please wake Frederick up and give him my orders. As the sun rises, I want all the commanders to come here to the library. We have a lot to do.
- We can wake…
Sansa shook her head. Four hours of sleep won't stop the Boltons and she needed some time to gather her thoughts about the matter.
- Let them sleep. Now please leave.
When Bryan Longfellow and Ser Thomas left the library, Sandor Clegane did not move. He was watching Sansa curiously who was staring at the flames as if she had been waiting for some good advice to appear among them.
- I am going. – he said suddenly.
Sansa looked at him with a drowsy face as if she had been woken up from a dream.
- Going? Where?
Sandor smirked softly.
- To fight.
Sansa leaned back in her chair, turning completely towards him.
- I thought you are tired of fighting.
Sandor shrugged carelessly.
- I am. But now I must fight these Boltons before they do more damage.
Before they reach Winterfell, Sansa thought. She remembered her first husband well – he was long dead but his poisonous blood was running in so many people in his family. She knew well that they must be stopped immediately – and by stopping she meant death. After her own experience with the Boltons, she didn't believe in forgiveness and second chances anymore.
However, she didn't want Sandor to leave.
- I don't think it is a good idea…
Sandor stood up and replied on a raspy voice.
- Why? I am a damned fighter and I won't sit here with the old witches when there is a fight somewhere out there.
- You are not that young anymore…
Sandor now stepped to Sansa and he was towering above her. He looked really angry with her, his eyes were expressing that clearly without saying a word, while the burnt part of his face looked even redder and darker.
- Don't be so protective. I am fucking not old or dead yet. Shall I just stay here while other people are fighting? Shall I sit next to the fireplace knitting scarves for the children?
Sansa was not afraid of him as she was sure that he would never attack or beat her and she returned his furious glance with softness both in her voice and her eyes. She knew that he was still extremely strong and cunning, but she didn't want him to go away – even though he was probably one of the best warriors in Winterfell now.
- I didn't say that…
- It seemed to me anyway…
- It was not my intention to hurt you or belittle your power…
Sandor cut her words with a sudden movement of his hand as if he had wanted to stop her. He had enough of the conversation and of being told what to do.
- Fine. Then I'll leave this morning. Give me ten men, food and horses. – then he turned around and walked towards the door.
- Ser Sandor. – her voice was so soft like a breeze.
Sandor stopped but he didn't turn back to look at her.
- Lady Sansa?
- Take care of yourself.
- I will always do that. – he opened the door, then closed it behind him.