At long last, here is chapter 7. Sorry for the super long wait.
Special thanks to Athena-Noctua-Bubo for beta reading this chapter. I'm very grateful you were able to help! :D
"This is very… very serious, Sansa," her dad repeated for at least the tenth time in just a few minutes "I don't think you realise the gravity of what you did," he said weakly.
Massaging his temples, Ned winced the way he always did when he had a headache. Sansa had seen him do it hundreds of time as he worked long hours in his office or after a particularly difficult conference call with clients, yet that she would one day be to blame for it was not something she could ever have predicted. She had always been such a good girl and taken great pride in how little trouble she caused when compared with her sister.
By his side, Mum stared unseeingly out the window, her face red and puffy. The dark green silk dressing gown she wore was crumpled and her long auburn hair uncharacteristically tangled.
All three of them sat around the kitchen table, each equally dishevelled and exhausted. Her parents had barely slept the night before and it showed. From what Arya told Sansa when they briefly crossed path earlier, their parents had not even gone to bed, only dozed off and on in the living room as they waited for sunrise to come. Bran, Rickon and Arya had all grabbed breakfast and scurried off to school as soon as they woke up, anxious to be out of the house. As for Sansa, her parents decided to keep her home for the day seeing as they judged her in no state to be seen publicly. Besides, a good talk was more than mandatory and with the house empty, they wouldn't have to fear being overheard. They could even yell if it came to that, the neighbours were far enough away not to worry they would call the cops, and they had indeed indulged themselves quite a few times already. So far, this conversation was going nowhere.
"I do realise the seriousness of what I did. I thought long and hard before I decided to go through with it," Sansa answered, her face wet with tears. Tremors were running down her body, as if she was about to be sick, and perhaps she would be. "I felt like I had no choice! It was that, or live my life being as flat as someone not of the blood. I could not bare it!" she cried out before burying her face in her hands and weeping.
"There are worse things in life than having no Skill and being bound to a demon is certainly one of them," Ned rebuked her so sternly, that Sansa flinched in her seat.
Then, in a heartbeat, his fury gave way to the deepest of misery. His shoulders dropping, he released a long, shivering sigh and glanced up at the ceiling.
"Sansa, why did you have to do this?" he asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "You let a malefic force into your life, welcomed it in our house! He was the scum of humanity in life and now as a demon, his nature can only have worsened. There is absolutely no way of knowing what he is capable of!"
"He's… not as bad as you think," Sansa started, her voice small and pitiful. She rubbed the wetness from her face with shaking fingers. "He is… he is scary looking indeed, I won't lie about that, and I was a little afraid of him at first…" she admitted, which was probably the biggest understatement. "Yet you can rest assured! I… I can tell he's very devoted to me. He won't do me any harm, nor to you, that I'm sure of."
"How can you be so sure? What do you know about demons? What do any of us know? We're clueless! Apart from the few patchy elements mentioned in that blasted grimoire, we don't know a bloody thing!" Ned spat, nodding at the old velum book, an air of disgust on his face.
At the centre of the table, the grimoire lay open to the page with the Evocation Ceremony, evidence of her crime for all to see.
"This is the ceremony you performed, Sansa?" Mum asked quietly. Gazing at it with concern, she carefully pulled it to her.
"Yes," Sansa admitted uneasily.
Every detail of the ceremony was written in black and white in the grimoire and not for the first time, she wished she had pretended she didn't know where it was when her parents confronted her about it. She shouldn't have handed it back so easily.
Her eyes shining with unshed tears, Mum read the nearly indecipherable gothic letters, the tip of her index finger lightly touching the page. "Did you cut your palm?" she demanded, a worried frown creasing her brow.
Before Sansa could speak, her mum seized her left hand and tried to open it. Sansa resisted by reflex at first, but quickly surmised it was pointless and relaxed her fingers.
"You did!" Mum exclaimed. Fat tears rolling down her cheeks, she shook her head in incomprehension. "Such a beautiful hand – scarred! It's such a pity... Oh, Sansa. To go to such extremes… I just don't understand what has gotten into you." Sobs shook her hard then and yet, even at the worse of it, no sound escaped her lips.
Dad pinched the bridge of his nose and yanked the grimoire closer to him. "So… as I understand it, you performed this whole ceremony from start to finish… You did the… ah… the Fornication …" he said, his features contracting as the word left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.
Biting her lip, Sansa shifted uneasily in her chair. Though she wore her dressing gown, she was still naked underneath, same as when her mother woke her up. The burning sensation between her legs served as a constant reminder of how relentlessly the Hound had taken her last night, same as the multiple bruises on her skin. Sansa knew she looked exactly like what she was: a girl who had been ran over by a ferocious, insatiable beast from dusk to dawn. There was no point in lying about this, especially seeing as no Evocation could work if a witch was not willing to offer herself to the demon she called forth.
"It's part of the whole deal. It wouldn't have worked otherwise," she whispered, lowering her eyes in shame.
As Catelyn heard her words, she let out a small sound, like a muffled sob.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sansa saw her father's hand close in a fist on the table. "Did… did he hurt you? The demon?"
"I'm fine," Sansa assured him, still not daring to meet his gaze.
"Don't lie. You're bruised all over. Covered with scratches… I saw it!" Mum pointed out, her voice raw with emotion.
"It doesn't hurt, I swear it. He didn't mean to harm me, it's just that… that with his claws…"
Exhaling loudly, Dad rubbed his hands over his face with a total lack of strength. "He has claws…" he repeated. "Claws and horns and wings. A demon! I still can't believe it. Had it not been for the stench of that bastard's psychic scent filling the house, I would have thought Arya lost her blasted mind when she told us about what you did. It's still hard for me to wrap my head around it..."
"Oh, Sansa… why, oh why did you ever have to do this?" her mum repeated the now overused reproach. "You're just sixteen, so young and beautiful, with your whole life ahead of you… And here, you've just willingly tied your existence to that of a monster. He's not even alive, Sansa! Not even worthy to be called a man…"
A new surge of tears filled Sansa's eyes, nearly blinding her. "It was that, or never be a true witch. No matter how horrible the consequences may seem to you, I don't regret it! Not even one bit!"
"You don't regret it yet, but you will, my daughter. Oh, you will," Ned retorted heatedly. He pointed an accusing finger at her, his frown deepening. "How do you think your life will go from now on, with a demon from the Seven Hells always looking over your shoulder? You think you'll manage to lead a normal existence when your nights will be spent with a fiend, doing… doing things … well things I would rather not have to think about where you are concerned?"
Sansa blushed. "I don't see how it will be so bad, Dad. As I told you, the Hound would never hurt me and no one needs to know about him apart from you two and Arya. And at least, I'll have Skill and will be able to contribute to the family business. If not for that, I would've been good for nothing !"
"Don't say that, Sansa. Skill is not everything. Your brothers won't ever have any Skill either, same as I. It doesn't make us worthless."
While a distant part of Sansa felt awful for having inadvertently insulted her father and brothers, she was too blinded by her emotions to apologise. "But I'm female! I'm supposed to have Skill, it's not the same at all! Who would infuse appeal into our client's investments if every one of us was just as flat as me? All of the witch families' fortunes are thanks to their women's Skill."
"Your mother and Arya would've been enough. Some families have no daughter and it's not one generation that ruins them. There was absolutely no need for you to do something so drastic."
"But I really want to contribute! I have always felt like such a failure, as if I had let everyone down."
"No one ever blamed you for it. It was never your fault!" Mum assured her.
Like most witch families, the Starks' wealth was in all appearances perfectly legitimate and to some extent, it truly was. The family had operatedStark's Investments, a venture capital firm, for many generations with a lot of success. Dad, his father before him, his grandfather, his great grandfather and so on, had all earned master's degrees in finance in order to properly direct the firm. Today, it was Robb's turn and with the excellent results he had so far, Stark's Investments' future looked as bright as ever.
But of course, the Starks' success was not solely about calculated risks and a perfect knowledge of the market; the power of the family's women had lots to do with its everlasting good fortune as well. While witch law forbade casting spells on people, there was nothing illegal about suffusing appeal to a product, or the venture of a company. So that's what the Stark women had done over the last few generations in order to ensure the investments of the firm's client's never lost value.
The recipe was a winning one without a doubt, for even in periods of crisis Stark's Investments always managed to keep its clients accounts well above water, the current year being especially fruitful. After Ned advised his clients to purchase shares of a new promising vineyard in January, it became so popular that by May, their wine was completely sold out. Not long after that, a small organic farm the firm invested in started distributing their products all over Westeros, and more recently, the graphite mine north of the Wall Ned had believed in so much had signed contracts with several electric car manufacturers.
"But, Mum, I have power now and lots of it!" Sansa insisted. "I'll infuse some of it in the business and that will give you a chance to use your Skill for other stuff. What do you say, Mum? You barely ever get to weave spells for yourself."
"I don't mind it, Sansa, no matter what you may think. I've long passed the age of casting beauty spells on myself every morning. I can fix my hair and apply makeup on my own just fine. So what if I have a few hairs out of place? I'm not so vain as to use the Craft to keep myself looking like I came straight out of a magazine all day long. One anti-wrinkle and hair colouring spell per month is all a woman needs." Then, furrowing her brow, Mum contemplated her for a moment. "But you have a lot of power indeed," she added quietly. "Probably too much in fact. It's not normal for someone who has only just blossomed - you're nearly glowing with it. We'll need to find a way to empty your well at least by half."
Sansa blushed. She knew her mother did not mean it as a compliment, yet she couldn't help but be pleased by her remark. She always dreamed of glowing with power; it was deemed very attractive, something that would bring a woman of the blood many suitors.
"If I use my power to help you with the business, my well won't be so full. It'd be perfect, we'd be killing two birds with one stone."
Pulling his face into a dark scowl, her dad shook his head. "I forbid you from infusing any of your power in our clients' investments. With the origins of your Skill, this makes me anxious. There's no knowing if the spells you'd cast would last, or if the situation would not turn against us, somehow."
"But why? There's no reason my power should be wasted! And Mum said herself that my well was too full," Sansa complained, knitting her brow. "And why would the Hound turn on me? We are bound and so hurting me would hurt him as well, right? I… I know I can trust him."
Dad's laugh was devoid of any humour. "You trust a devil, Sansa? Can't you see how little sense that makes? Even someone as ignorant as me in demonology is aware of how malicious they're supposed to be. They aren't like us mortals. You cannot predict his actions and read him the way you would a living person."
Sansa had read as much in the grimoire, and the truth was she worried about this too, but she was not about to admit to it aloud. She needed to convince her parents that the Hound was her ally and that they were worrying for nothing and thus, she best keep her doubts to herself.
"The Hound? Is that the fiend's name?" her mother asked. "You referred to him like that before."
"Yes, that's what he told me he was called."
From her mother's air of disgust, Sansa surmised she wasn't impressed in the least.
"Well then, the Hound is neither welcome here, or in your life," Dad stated firmly. Exhaling a deep sigh, he ran a hand though his mostly gray hair. "We'll need to find a way to undo that Evocation ceremony. There must be a way out of this… or else… or else…"
Sansa gasped at hearing his words. "To undo the ceremony? Oh, no! I don't want you to find a way! I won't let you do it!" she cried out, fresh tears pearling in her eyes.
"Sansa," Mum pleaded, laying a gentle hand on her thigh. "I don't think you realise the implications of your actions. That new power may be fun for now, but this bond will be for your whole life! You will always be different because of it, will probably never get to marry and have a family of your own. How do you think a devil would deal with seeing you with a man?"
Sansa thought about it for an instant. From the Hound's attitude towards her, she had an inkling he would not tolerate it. Besides, even if she was wrong about it and he was not possessive in the least, what kind of guy would agree to share his wife with a demon? Her chances of ever knowing love were indeed slim to none.
You'll want no man in your bed after you've known a demon, the Hound's words came back to her. He said them just before their first encounter in that very gravelly voice of his and then, taken her countless times all through the night.
While Sansa was a virgin before him, she trusted he was right about this. With the spells he cast on her and how horny and responsive it made her, she couldn't envision how doing it with a mortal guy could even compare. Maybe she would never long for a regular partner after all - a devil would be enough.
But these were not details Sansa wished to share with her parents. Instead, she told them of the one very real fear she had for the longest time. "No man from a witch family would have ever wanted me anyway. Skilless as I was, I would have brought him nothing."
"Don't say that, Sansa. That's not true," Mum insisted, though the sadness in her eyes said otherwise.
"It is, Mum, and you know it! Every spinster in our congregation is unskilled or of lesser Skill. It's always been like that, and will never change. Even Joffrey dumped me because of it!"
Her features contorting painfully, Sansa let out a whimper hiding her face in her hands, abashed to be seen weeping for such an undeserving jerk. It made no sense: she wouldn't get back with him even if he begged her on his hands and knees, yet there was no denying the rejection still stung.
"Oh, sweetie, I didn't realise how heartbroken you were. I knew you were sad, but I would never have thought that it would push you to such extremes. Had I known… I would've been more present, perhaps I could have prevented this…" Mum said with regret.
"And I shouldn't have left the door of our occult library unlocked. That was a huge mistake on my part, yet I would never have thought that any child of mine would be so foolish as to attempt something so dangerous. From now on, it will be locked at all time and shielded with a spell," her dad said, glancing at Mum.
She nodded. "I'm too tired to do it just now, but I'll cast a spell after I've slept a bit."
"Yes, I think we all need to sleep for a few hours now. I can hardly think straight," he agreed.
Sansa bit her lip, not daring to hope this ordeal of a conversation might really be coming to an end at last - or at least, a hiatus, yet both of her parents apparently had had enough as well.
Sighing deeply, Dad gestured towards the hallway. "Go to bed, Sansa. We'll resume this discussion later tonight."
Fearing that he might change his mind if she spoke so much as a word, Sansa nodded and strode out of the kitchen at once. The instant her bedroom door shut behind her, she jumped in her bed and pulled her sheet and comforter over her. She didn't even have time to cry before sleep found her.
It was the sound of her siblings returning home from school that awoke Sansa in the late afternoon. While she had slept for many hours, she barely felt any better than before she went to bed. Dizziness overcame Sansa as she sat at the edge of her mattress and she stayed there, her face lowered in her open palms, for a few long minutes as she struggled to collect herself.
Oh, by the Seven. What am I going to do? she mused as the events of the previous night and morning came back to her. The predicament she had entangled herself into was so surreal, like something out of her worse nightmare. Sansa couldn't bear the thought of what she was putting her parents through. They were so worried for her, totally horror-struck, and with reason. And yet for all of that, there was no way that she agreed to any sort of attempt to undo the Evocation ceremony she had performed. Sansa was not going to turn her back on the Hound and the power her alliance with him granted her. It would make no sense at this point, not when she would be facing her parents' disapproval and disappointment no matter what. The damage was already done and if she was to be looked down on for the rest of her life, she'd rather it be with Skill.
After taking a long hot shower, Sansa put on her pyjamas and returned to her room. In a will to keep her mind from her present situation and lessen the anxiety pondering it triggered in her, she attempted to do some homework at her desk. Not surprisingly, her efforts proved worthless. She was too distracted, and kept thinking of her parents and the shock she saw in their eyes as she told them everything she dared to. Sansa had always been such a good girl and done whatever she could to please them. It pained her to turn rebellious overnight; it was out of character for her, certainly not something she would have done under regular circumstances. But life was not so simple, she had learned recently, and one had to make difficult choices in order to achieve the goals they set for themselves.
All too soon, dinner was ready and Sansa reluctantly joined her family in the dinning room, her legs unsteady as she walked down the grand staircase. She was greeted by a few furtive glances and a grunt from her father and sat down at her place without uttering a word.
Everyone ate in awkward silence, only exchanging short, practical sentences. Poor Bran and Rickon were exceedingly confused and kept peeking from Sansa to Mum and Dad, trying to understand the situation. Despite no one telling them about the Summoning she had performed, they knew for a fact that Sansa had messed up pretty badly from the way their parents screamed last night and the somber atmosphere that hung over the house ever since. As for Arya, she barely raised her eyes from the plate of spaghetti she was eating at full speed. In less than five minutes, she had inhaled everything on her plate and stood up to leave even before she swallowed her last mouthful.
"Thanks, Mum! That was very good," she said with much more enthusiasm than was necessary. "Well, I think I better head upstairs to study a bit now."
Sansa might have found her sister's uncharacteristic eagerness to study funny if not for her present dire circumstances. She clearly didn't wish to linger and really, who could blame her for it?
"Arya," their dad told her before she had a chance to take off. "Your mother and I need to talk to both you and your sister. I'll call for you when we're ready."
Her face growing long, Arya gulped and nodded just once. "Alright then," she said before walking away.
When everyone was finished eating, the dishes had been done, and the lunches packed, Sansa, Arya and their parents all met in Dad's office even as the boys headed to the basement media room to play video games. They sat around the small round table in the centre of the room, the door shut behind them. On her father's reading desk, Sansa noticed a pile of books, among which was the grimoire she used. Has he found something? she wondered nervously. There were without a doubt few thesis on demonology which could be found in the the family's occult library, or any other book that might increase his knowledge on the subject. Sansa could only hope his research had so far been vain.
"Your mother and I have had a chance to rest and talk," Dad started, though he in truth looked just as worn-out as this morning. Sighing deeply, he shook his head in discouragement. "This Evocation… it was such a huge mistake, Sansa. It's a curse that's fallen on our family, but we'll make it through and stand by you no matter what. You are our daughter and we love you very much."
Mum nodded in agreement. "It's true, Sansa. We'll never let you down, I hope you realise that. Everything we're doing here, it's for your own sake, dear, and nothing else," she insisted with a genuine, yet very tired smile. Though she had showered and brushed her hair, she still didn't seem like her usual self.
"I do know all of that, of course," Sansa murmured. "But you don't need to worry about me. Everything is fine and I can assure you that I have the situation well under -"
Dad silenced her with a wave of his hand. "Hush now," he said before continuing like she had said nothing. "We came up with a strategy of sorts. First, I'd like to insist on the fact that this Evocation Sansa did must never be mentioned to anyone," he insisted, gazing at both Sansa and Arya in turn. "Not to any of your friends, not to Rickon or Bran, and I think I'd like to keep it from Robb and Jon, at least for now…"
"Of course I won't tell anyone. I know how bad the kind of magic I did is seen," Sansa replied with a blush.
By her side, Arya made a gesture like she was closing a zipper over her mouth. "I'm not telling anyone, no worries. Can I go now? I don't see why I need to be here. It's just that I have an exam tomorrow, you know, and so I really need to study-"
"You're staying. You'll have time enough for that after we're done," their dad interrupted her so harshly that she literally jumped in place.
"And now, let's hope that you have good grades for once. Funny how you only ever need to study when your parents want something of you and never have to when you ask us if you can go hang out with your friends," Mum commented dryly.
Grunting in agreement, Dad shot Arya a reproachful look. "Very strange indeed," he said even as Arya gazed down at her hands sheepishly. Then, clearing his throat, he squeezed his eyes shut, as if he were in pain. "For all of our need for secrecy, I'm afraid that we'll have no choice but to ask for some help from Lewin and Old Nan," he went on in a slow, weary voice. "No one knows the Craft as much as they do and your mother and I both feel confident that we can trust them with this. We really need to find a way to destroy this bond, somehow, and if anyone can help us, it's them. For now, the only lead I found is to ask a Septon to attempt an exorcism on you and I'm very reluctant to go in that direction. I'm not sure we can trust people of the church not to spread rumours the way we can Nan and Lewin. They usually make such a spectacle out of everything…"
Sansa gasped at hearing her father's words. "No! Not a Septon!" she exclaimed in dismay. How could her parents even consider such a thing?
The great witch families had an aversion to the Faith in general for the longest time. They had a history: some centuries ago, women ancestors of every family had been burnt at the stake by groups of fanatical Septons and Sparrows. The women who survived those dark times had learned to be discreet about their power in order to survive and taught their descendants to do the same.
"Not a good idea indeed," Mum agreed, her nose wrinkling in distaste. "Still, if it turns out to be our only choice… perhaps… perhaps we could…"
"Oh, no! Please don't do this! I beg you not to! It wouldn't work anyway. The Hound did not invade me unwillingly; I called him forth!" Sansa cried out, tears welling in her eyes. "And don't try anything else either, Dad. You're wasting your time. I won't cooperate, I told you already! The Hound… the Hound and I are linked now. I cannot betray him! What would that make me? And I need him !"
"Your father only has your best interest at heart, Sansa. You apparently don't know what's good for you. As your parents, it's our duty to watch over you and that's exactly what we're doing just now," Mum said.
His frown deepening, Dad glanced at Mum gratefully. "Thank you, Catelyn. But, Sansa the exorcism…" he trailed off, grimacing. "Well if it makes you feel better, it will most likely never take place. Drawing the Faith's attention is never a good idea and it's not like I'm convinced anything they'd do would actually work anyway. But there must be another way, there has to be, and we'll find it. You'll thank us in time, when you're older and wiser, you'll see."
"No, you're wrong," Sansa stated, gazing down dejectedly. Her throat was getting uncomfortably tight, like it always did whenever she was about to cry. This was so unfair! Just as she was getting used to her new Skill and to the demon she had to thank for it, here her parents wanted to throw it all away. It was her life, not theirs! She wanted to scream in outrage, but in her despair, she found herself unable to utter a single word.
As for poor Arya, she looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here and was glancing around herself as if she was searching for a way out, yet she knew better than to suggest that she leave this time around.
"Still, until we find a way to sever your link with that… that Hound, as you call him, this new Skill of yours needs to be toned down," Dad said, massaging his temples. "As it is, it's far too noticeable and with the Tyrells going to the same school as you… and with Petyr Baelish being your principal… you going to school in your present state is not advisable. Rumours would spread…"
Sansa shivered at the mere mention of her principal's name. She fleetingly wondered what he'd think of her being bound to a demon from the Seven Hells and losing her virginity to him, and the notion made her all the more uncomfortable.
"Shielding yourself is the best solution," Mum continued. "Same as you did before last night. It would solve two problems at once. Empty your well and keep that fiend at bay."
Panic rose in Sansa, like steam in a kettle ready to burst. She shook her head violently, so distraught she was suddenly dizzy and short-breathed. "To shield myself? No, that I cannot do! Oh, no, no, no! I can't "
"So, you are afraid of him, my child. Did he threatened to hurt you if you blocked him again?" Dad asked in a mix of concern and anger.
"He did not!" Sansa nearly sobbed. "Of course not - why would he even do that? We are bound!" she reminded him. "It's just that I… I promised him… The Hound made me promise I would never shield myself against him again…"
"Course he has," Dad growled. "It's not in his interest that you block him. But you will do as I say."
"But, Dad, I can't! Didn't you hear? I gave him my word! What would that make me if I did not to keep it? I would be betraying him!"
Mum snorted, clearly unconvinced by her argument. "A promise made to a devil doesn't mean a thing, darling. There's no harm in not holding it."
Sansa's face was so wet with tears, she tasted the salt of them as she breathed through her mouth. She sniffed loudly, a spasm going through her. "I don't want to do it! Holding that shield was not nice for me at all, you know. I was so weak… And the Hound, he suffered while I shielded myself. I cannot harm him!"
"Are we supposed to pity him now?" Dad asked, shaking his head in astonishment. "Don't you see he's trying to manipulate you, to use your gentle nature to his advantage?"
Her anguish rising, Sansa began to shiver uncontrollably. "You don't know what you're talking about!" she shrieked. "I… I trust him."
"Which clearly shows your lack of discernment in the matter," Mum remarked. "Who's to say what got him to the Seven Hells to begin with? He could have been a liar, a thief, a killer…"
Even as her mother spoke, Sansa felt something strange coming from deep within her. It was like a touch, the Hound's touch. She gazed out the window, taken aback, to realise it had become fully dark outside.
Little bird, are you all right? a voice no one but her could hear murmured in the back of her mind.
The colour draining from her face, Sansa grew as stiff as a bow. Stay where you are! she tried telling him.
But it was too late, apparently, for the Hound's psychic scent became noticeable a split second later. Though it was subtle, everyone sensed it. Arya's eyes widened with fear, Mum tensed, and Dad flinched…
"Your devil, Sansa. I told you to block him! And now, here you are calling him instead?" Dad said in a voice filled with outrage.
"Gods… such a powerful scent…" Mum whispered to herself, her face contorted in an expression of horror. She raised a hand to her nose, same as if she had just smelled something foul.
"I'm not calling him!" Sansa shouted in a frenzy. "It's just that he can sense my emotions and now, it's dark outside, so he's not trapped in the Void anymore! He doesn't like it when I'm upset; he told me he could sense my distress the other day when Joffrey… when Joffrey was being Joffrey and he was so very mad at him for putting me in that state. I really need to go, now!" With that, she stood from her chair, ready to stride away.
"Block him, Sansa!" Mum ordered her, catching her by the sleeve. "Don't let this creature into our house. You cannot let him soil it with his stench!"
And indeed, the Hound's psychic scent was getting stronger with every passing second, which in turn made her heart hammer frantically in her chest.
"I can't!" Sansa cried. "I made him a promise and I… I don't even know if I could stop him from leaving the Void at this point. It's too late! Let me go!" Wrenching herself free from her mother's grasp, she ran as fast as she could towards the staircase.
"Where do you think you're going?" Her dad roared.
Behind her, the sound of both her parents' steps echoed as they came after her. Sansa ran up the stairs, not daring to look back, and shut her bedroom door behind her as soon as she entered. After pushing her desk in front of the door, she leaned against it, using her entire body weight to keep it closed.
"Open immediately, Sansa!" Dad shouted, pushing at the door.
"No I won't! It's better this way, you don't want to see… to see him … I … I don't think it's a good idea!"
Sansa wouldn't be able to keep the door shut for very long, not with both of her parents uniting their strength to force it open. Shutting her eyes, she hurriedly weaved a little spell to lock it with an invisible bolt, yet her mother saw it coming and prevented the bolt from closing with a spell of her own. Knitting her brow, Sansa pressed her upper arms and palms onto the door, using the strength of her legs to drive into it as hard as she could even as she infused more of her might into her spell, yet it was never enough, for Mum did just the same.
Mother and daughter fought against one another for a few interminable seconds and though Sansa certainly had more raw power available in her well, she was still new to her Skill whereas her mother had far more experience. Slowly but surely, she was losing the battle and she let out a groan of despair as she felt the door opening more and more despite her best efforts.
But then just as she was losing all hope, the Hound's psychic scent grew insufferably potent and a huge dark grey hand with long, sharp black claws landed on the door by her side, closing it completely. In the blink of an eye, the room became shockingly silent, like it was surrounded by nothing but emptiness.
Swirling around, Sansa gazed up, her eyes widening as they fell on the Hound's massive frame and terrifying features. While she was grateful for his timely arrival, fear seized her nonetheless as she met his strange, blazing eyes. By instinct, she leaned her back flat against the door in a will to keep as much distance as she could from him. No human could stand by such a fearsome and alien creature and not shiver as if their life was in danger, the fact they were bound didn't make it any different for Sansa. It was a mercy her parents were spared the sight of him and she prayed they never came face to face with him.
"Why were you crying, little bird? Who put you in that state?" the Hound asked her in his very distinctive rasp. Narrowing his eyes, he tilted his head to the side, his long, pointy horns cutting the air above his head as he did.
"It's my… my parents. They wanted me to shield myself against you again," Sansa whispered. Unable to control herself anymore, she resumed weeping. "And they told me they would find a way to break our bond! They want to undo my Evocation… I… I don't want them to do it."
The Hound's nostrils flared in anger. "They won't succeed," he rasped, tracing the line of her jaw with a long, sharp claw. The hint of a smile curved his lips then, though his eyes remained wrathful. "Nothing can sever our link, Sansa. That bond we have is forever. I told you already, didn't I?" he asked, drying the tears that bathed her cheeks with his knuckles.
Sansa nodded, her sobs subsiding. "Yes," she breathed gazing into his hypnotic animalistic eyes. She lost herself in them and for a moment, it was as if nothing else existed in the whole wide world.
"Come over here," the Hound bade her, pulling her into an embrace.
Offering no resistance, Sansa buried her face into his muscled chest, her hands rising to his torso. His skin was so hot, it was nearly burning to the touch, but she didn't mind, not truly. It was oddly comforting, the way a very hot shower could be soothing to the nerves after a long, strenuous day.
"Don't let them, or anyone, disturb your peace," the Hound muttered in her ear, his tone very calm and yet at the same time, somewhat threatening. "You and I, are all that matters in this bloody world from now on, you hear me? There's not a mortal walking this fucking planet that can destroy what we have."
"No one," Sansa repeated into his chest. "No one will destroy our bond."
"Yes, that's right." His hand sliding to her chin, he titled her face upward and bent down to kiss her on her mouth, unexpectedly softly.
Sansa met his tongue with hers and moaned at how good it felt. As their lips moved in unison, the scent of metal thickened around them and her head was spinning. Her limbs quickly losing their strength, she leaned her weight into him, feeling his erection against her upper belly and stirring at the fluttering the hardness woke deep in the pit of stomach.
"And that bond… that bond we have," the Hound rasped against her lips. "The more we fuck, the stronger it will become," he said lowly, caressing her hair. "I say we get to it right away, what do you think?"
Sansa nodded, gazing up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "Yes," she agreed softly, the sweet pressure trailing down her loins increasing with every passing second.
A terrifying grin splitting his face, the Hound gathered her in his arms like she weighed nothing. He didn't utter a single word and walked towards the bed in silence.