Chapter 11.
Life returned to its usual pattern – except the fact that Sansa and Sandor spent less time together than before.
They met only at mealtime and when they happened to bump into each other inside or outside the castle. The reparations on the walls and on the buildings were finished a few weeks after the little army had arrived home, but somehow Sandor found some physical work to do or he went out riding therefore he spent only little time inside the castle eating or sleeping. Sansa didn't feel like checking him and she made herself busy with reading and discussing the future of the North with her closest people. She was sure that Sandor must have known about the meetings but he didn't show any signs to have the intention to join and she found it uncomfortable to ask him to. Her companions didn't feel like asking him either.
Sansa had her usual things to do, but she spent most of her evenings in Godswood. That was the only place where no one disturbed her and she needed its peace badly, because she wanted to be alone. Now that her little army, and Sandor Clegane returned to Winterfell, she finally regained her inner peace but still she had other kinds of thoughts to care about and wonder.
She could be completely alone in Godswood. Not even her closest friends or her servants would dare to go there – everyone knew what an incredibly sacred place it meant to her. It was an unspoken rule that if she happened to be needed urgently, her father's hunting horn would be blown whose long deep voice would reach her and she would know immediately that she should hurry back to the castle but not a single soul was allowed to approach the place.
Despite that everyone knew the rule, sometimes Sansa felt as if someone had been hiding among the trees, watching her, listening to her praying, although no one came forward to betray their presence and she didn't manage to glance anyone around.
She knew she was not mistaken – her senses had been sharpened during the cruel years that she had spent by Ramsay's side, trying to discover his whereabouts near herself before he could have surprised her.
She hoped that it would be Sandor himself hiding silently among the trees, but she tried not to bring herself into false hopes again. He would be the only one who would dare to come here, she thought with a naughty smile, as he hates rules and everything that is against his will.
They spoke so little and she felt that they avoided each other with intention. I am afraid of his refusal while he simply doesn't want to be with me, she thought bitterly. Sometimes she wondered why he didn't leave Winterfell – by fighting for and defending the Queen of the North and her people successfully, some lords could have been happy to have him inside their armies.
Two months passed in this fashion when one night, when it was especially cold, almost full moon, Sansa could be assured that she was not the only one human being in Godswood. She had just finished her prayers and pulling the thick furs closer on her body, she was wondering among her tender thoughts, when suddenly Sandor Clegane appeared out of nowhere.
He didn't say a word, and she didn't greet him that time. She was watching him curiously, her heart was beating wildly in her throat but she wanted him to talk first and explain his presence.
Sandor walked closer to her slowly as if he had been exhausted, then he sat down just three steps away from her. She could smell his scent, a familiar mixture of smoke and beer and she could hear him breathing heavily. His face was completely emotionless and for a while he seemed to stay silent.
They were sitting in silence at least for quarter of an hour, when unexpectedly Sandor started to speak.
- I remember little. I remember fighting with Gregor and I remember falling. The force of the wind on my face. Then darkness. Complete darkness I had never seen before. Then I woke up somewhere that smelled of flowers and pine trees. I saw Beric.
Now Sansa understood what he was talking about. She remembered asking him what had happened to him in King's Landing and how he had survived falling from the tower into the fire. Now he seemed to think that it was the right time to give an answer to her and to tell his story.
She said softly:
- You mean Beric Dondarrion, the Lightning Lord?
Sandor nodded.
- Right.
Sansa wanted to say "You could not see him because he was dead for a long time and you should know that the best" but she kept her mouth shut because she didn't want to behave impolite and she didn't want to cut into his memories when he was finally ready to open up. She had wanted to hear his incredible story since she saw him standing on the yard of Winterfell.
Sandor smirked at her a little wildly, but without any anger.
- I know what you are thinking. That he is dead. I know that because I saw him die. But that man in the hut looked like him. Not only the physical things, but also the way he breathed and how he was always looking at me.
Sansa listened. She knew the story of the two men's rivalry and how long they had been enemies before they had to fight side by side.
- There was something so characteristic in his eyes. Mistrust and some kind of pride he always had. – he kept a little pause as if he had wanted to dig deeper into his memories. - He did not say a single word. He was just rubbing some kind of balm into my skin, all over my body. Something smelly, filled with mint. Every morning and every night like a painful routine. And I heard him whispering prayers, even though I didn't understand a single word, he spoke an unknown language. – he paused again while Sansa was listening to him breathlessly. - There was always a fire inside the hut. I still remember the heat and the colour of the flames.
He listened for a few seconds again. His facial features were still emotionless although Sansa knew very well how terribly he was always afraid of fire and flames. Now she could see no sign of fear or disgust and she found it interesting. Maybe had he managed to defeat that fear in that mysterious hut?
Sandor spoke again. His voice sounded stronger.
- One day I woke up and the hut was empty. There was no fire and I heard the birds twittering outside. I could get up and I left immediately.
Sansa dared to ask now.
- Why didn't you wait for him to return?
Sandor shrugged his left shoulder.
- I felt it would be useless.
- Did you feel it?
- I cannot explain it, woman. – there was some annoyance in his raspy voice. - I felt that he had left and he hadn't intended to return. He had even put out the fire that he had been taking care of. He had fulfilled actually what he had wanted: I was alive, I could breathe and move again.
They were sitting in silence for a while until Sansa needed to ask another question:
- Have you ever thought about what could have happened?
Sandor looked at her deeply, resting his arms on his knees. The usual mocking grin was shining on his lips, but his eyes seemed dark and serious.
- That R'hllor, the Lord of Light brought me back? In the form of Beric? For a special purpose that is known only by him?
Sansa nodded although she was getting ready for a verbal attack from him.
Religion was another topic that made them so different from each other and that made so many conversations and situations complicated. She believed in the gods of her family whose traditions dated back hundreds of years ago – Sandor believed in himself, in his sword and in bloody violence.
- I have no idea…
- Neither have I. But let me be the one who asks you a question this time. Do you believe in R'hllor, Lady Stark? – he grimaced, watching her attentively. – Though it would be such a blasphemy to admit it here, in the sacred wood of your old gods.
Sansa was smiling at him tenderly and she didn't intend to react to his provocative remarks. She enjoyed finally being and having a conversation with him again, a fairly interesting one and she didn't want to ruin the possibility she was just given.
- I know almost nothing about the Lord of Light, I know only the stories of the Red Woman and Ser Beric. – she knew that it was an evasive answer that Sandor would disapprove, but she couldn't find out and tell a lie.
Sandor became really serious now.
- They had power, I saw it. Beric could return from death many times. The Red Woman ruled over men, saw the past and the future, she knew magical potions and spoke the language of fire.
Sansa nodded carefully, wishing he would be telling more about his experiences. She heard some stories as well, about the Red Woman's magical prophecies and practices, about Beric's returning from the Death and his incredible transformations, but somehow she felt that further questions would annoy Sandor so much that he would not tell her more about it.
- Then possibly it was R'hllor, one of his priests.
Sandor gave out a mocking laugh.
- Don't you find him to be a threat against your gods?
He didn't seem to be quite talkative about his own ideas and opinion – he proved to be more curious of hers.
Sansa was keeping her eyes on him vigilantly. She knew that she could not ask more and that she could not avoid all of his questions if she wanted to keep the conversation on. She didn't want to tell a lie but she had to choose her words carefully.
- Everyone has their own right to have their own gods, to choose them or to be chosen by them. I can accept it.
Sansa did not say out loud that sometimes she did not even believe in gods at all. She looked up at the night sky and she could feel how the buried anger and hopelessness were coming out of her soul, strangling her throat. Her eyes were wondering now among the branches of the trees in front of her.
If there were any gods, she thought, my father, my mother, my brothers, Robb and Rickon, Master Luwin and all those great men and women I have ever known – they would be still alive, living happily, spending their life in Winterfell and not under the layers of earth, eaten by wolves, worms or birds. If there were any gods, she added with enraging bitterness, I would have never been raped by Ramsay Bolton and Queen Cercei could have never played her games on me or on anyone else. If there were any gods, Ramsay and Cercei would have never been born at all.
Sandor was watching her closely, with the mocking smile still on his lips.
- You have been disappointed and left by your gods so many times. Doesn't it disturb you at all?
Now Sansa looked at him again. Her dark glance and a tiny contemptuous smile on her lips surprised Sandor a little but he didn't show it.
- People have disappointed and left me as well, just as my gods, still I am ready to give a second chance. To most of them at least.
Sandor was smirking.
- You are too generous, I must say. It is something you haven't managed to get rid of, as far as I can see.
Sansa's smile remained scornful but her eyes shone playfully. Sandor Clegane didn't need a second chance from her because he had never given her any reasons for disappointment, he had never left her in the lurch and he had always found a way to rescue her. Except when he talked to her as if he had considered her to be a stupid, spoiled princess…
- You mean naïve, Ser Sandor.
He shrugged his shoulder carelessly as if he were bored with the conversation. Sansa suspected that he hadn't intended to talk so much about himself.
- If you fancy that, let's say that. You have always been like a child, with your fancy ideals and romantic bullshit.
- Sometimes I wish I had a heart of stone like you – Sansa stood up suddenly and walked beside Sandor, back to the castle - but not everyone is allowed to be so lucky, no matter how easier it could be. Good night.
She walked faster than she preferred to, half hoping that Sandor would not follow her or catch her.