Hi to those still interested in this story. First off, I want to apologise for taking so long to update this chapter. More than 5 months, yikes! I've just been so very busy this summer and fall, but I should have more time to write from now on, so I'm confident the next chapter won't take nearly as long. Thanks for your patience! And thank you to Athena-Noctua-Bubo for betaying this chapter! :D

Wednesday and Thursday came and went without bringing any change to Sansa's situation. On both days, she was kept home again and spent endless, tiresome hours arguing with her parents while her siblings were at school. Again, it didn't matter whether they ordered her to block the Hound or if they begged her to listen to them, she did not budge from her position and refused to do as they asked. Every evening after darkness fell, she fled to her bedroom the first chance she got and barricaded herself inside till the next dawn. The shield the Hound built around the room insured that they not be bothered or overheard, which was very necessary seeing how loud they could be. The Hound's appetite was insatiable where she was concerned and Sansa herself was increasingly eager. She looked forward to his arrival more and more and often surprised herself thinking about what he had done to her the previous night at the most random moments, warmth pooling in her lower belly.

When Friday morning came, Sansa knew things would be different from the instant her mother shook her awake, much earlier than she had on the previous days.

"Up now, Sansa. You'll be going to school today'" Catelyn informed her matter-of-factly.

"Really?" Sansa asked in disbelief, her voice nearly as raspy as the Hound's. Confused, she opened her eyes in slits and watched her mother as she walked to the window.

"Yes. Your father and I talked for hours last night and we figured keeping you at home any longer wouldn't do much apart from attract unwanted attention to you," Mum told her as she opened the curtains. Sansa squinted, the sun's glare hurting her eyes. "Besides, you need to keep your grades up, no matter that new… presence in your life," she added stiffly.

Though Sansa was exhausted to the point of dizziness, she gasped happily as her mother's words dawned on her. "Thank you!" she exclaimed, careful to keep her blankets covering her naked body as she sat up. "Thank you so much!"

The previous afternoon, Sansa tried long and hard to convince her parents to allow her to go to school, yet neither seemed to think it was a good idea at the time. She had not expected them to change their mind so quickly.

"Hurry up now. You don't want to be late," mum bade her, her lips pulling in a thin line.

Sansa nodded and started preparing the instant Mum shut the door behind her. Once more, sleep hadn't been nearly long enough for her – the Hound didn't give a moment of respite when he was there and she only had had a couple of hours of rest after he left. Her head swam with fatigue and she felt unsteady on her legs as she put on her uniform, yet for all of that, Sansa smiled to herself as she applied mascara on her lashes. The prospect of escaping the house's stuffy air for a few hours was so very appealing; it felt like forever since she had been beyond these four walls!

As she ate her breakfast of yogurt and granola, her gleefulness was tempered as she remembered the tale she needed to tell everyone at school. It wasn't anything extravagant – she had an indigestion after eating seafood on Monday evening from which she has only just recovered – and her parents wrote a note to corroborate her story, so there was really no reason anyone would question it whatsoever. Nevertheless, Sansa hated lying and sucked at it besides, so to say that she wasn't looking forward to it wasn't an understatement. She dreaded it in fact!

"Sansa, come," Dad's voice came from the kitchen's threshold just as Sansa was putting her bowl and spoon in the dishwasher. He gestured for her to follow him and led her to the backyard.

"I want you to use your Skill to repair the shed's shingle roof," he instructed her, pointing at the old crumbling building.

Sansa knitted her brow. "Why?" she asked, unable to hide her annoyance. She had been ready to leave, why was he asking her this just now?

Ned glared at her, clearly displeased to be challenged. "Don't pretend like you don't know it, young lady. We have to tone down that blasted power of yours. Your well is far too full as it is," he told her in a voice that brooked no arguing. He sighed, clearly exhausted and added, while messaging his temples: "And besides, I've been putting off repairing that shingle roof for far too long. It's truly in a horrible state. Why don't you show me what you can do now, huh? That devil of yours was here again last night, was he not?"

Sansa didn't answer. She knew her father's question was only rhetorical - the Hound's psychic scent was far too strong for anyone of the blood not to notice his presence. Resigning herself, she shut her eyes and pictured what it was that he wanted of her: the slate roof all shiny and new, with no trace of the moss, spider web, chips and cracks that covered it.

In no time, a strong gust of warm wind blew over her, sending her loose hair flying over her shoulders. The wind swirled around the yard, like a small tornado, and for a moment, Sansa forgot about everything but her task. She raised her arms high, feeling her vision take form even as euphoria bubbled in her mind. Grinning, she lowered her arms and exhaled deeply, knowing full well she had succeeded in her undertaking even before she opened her eyes. When she did though, she quickly lost her smile as she met her father's gaze, his uneasiness rubbing off on her. She was dizzy, she realised, and she took a step back to lean against the large tree trunk by her side.

"That was fast," her dad commented. His tone was flat, however Sansa knew him well enough to tell that he was impressed – impressed and unsettled as well. His eyes narrowed at her, he studied her warily for a time, lost in his thoughts. "Your well's still too full," he commented eventually, his frown deepening. "I think I'd like that slate to be light grey instead of that dark charcoal colour it is now. Why don't you fix that for your father?"

Sansa's eyes grew as wide as saucers. "But, dad! I'm exhausted already! I gave that spell everything I had!" she complained. "Please don't make me do it… A witch cannot empty her well: it's dangerous!"

"You think I don't know how Skill works? You still have too much power. That well of yours can be emptied a bit more without danger, trust me. Go on now!"

Blinking back tears that threatened to spill, Sansa took a deep breath and did as she was bade. This time there was no pleasure in the weaving of her spell, she was too frustrated for that, and by the time the shingle roof was at last to her father's liking, she was totally drained and dying to lay down, if only for a few minutes. Unfortunately, it was not to her bed she headed, but to school. Dad was kind enough to give her a lift, though that was in truth more worrisome than anything else seeing as he never, ever, drove any of his children to school. There was no doubting she must've looked truly horrible for him to make such an exception.

As Sansa sat in class later on, keeping her eyes open proved a true struggle and being attentive to what the teacher said was straight out impossible in these conditions. On the bright side in her poor state, no one could doubt that she had indeed been sick. Mrs. Mordane even went as far as to suggest that it might be a good idea that she returned home after she first saw her arrive in class, but Sansa assured her that she was all right – another lie.

Not far from her, Joffrey sat at his desk continuously peeking her way with the most horrid sneer on his face. Sansa tried to avoid his gaze as best she could, but every now and then - it was stronger than her - she would turn towards him and be met by his cruel beady green eyes and mocking expression. She would look away at once in those instances, shivering at the thought that she had ever found him charming. At least, neither Boros nor Meryn were with them in this class this morning. Sansa had noticed Joffrey was not as daring when he wasn't flanked by his two boorish friends, so she felt somewhat safe from any confrontation. Therefore, she was taken by surprise when, just after the bell rang, Joff followed her outside the classroom.

"Mrs Mordane is right: you should've stayed home and saved us all from having to look at that tired face of yours," he whispered in her hair from just behind her.

Jumping in place, Sansa cried out and took a hasty step away from him, the same way she would if a wasp been caught in her curls.

Pleased with her reaction Joff guffawed loudly. Then, closing the gap between them, he approached his face near enough that she could smell the fruity gum he was chewing. "You look like a bloody raccoon. Not sure how I could have ever found you pretty," he said, his face pulled with disgust. "Must've been a spell, from that ugly little sister of yours, maybe, or from your mother. It's not like you could ever have pulled this off on your own."

"Leave me alone!" Sansa retorted. Swirling around, she strode away from him as fast as she could.

Joff didn't come after her and Sansa breathed a sigh of relief as she reached the corridor's corner, yet only as she turned did she notice that Meryn was there, waiting for her. Unable to slow down at such short notice, she bumped right into his chest. The later seized her by the wrist, laughing, and twisted her arms until it stung.

"Ah!" Sansa yelped. "What are you doing? It hurts!" In a panic, she scanned her surroundings in search of help, but only saw the backs of students scurrying away.

"Little miss perfect was not here for the last few days? Too busy crying at home, I wager," Meryn sneered.

"Let me go!" Sansa exclaimed, however Meryn only twisted her arm harder. She moaned in pain even as Joffrey's sniggers echoed through the corridor.

"Or perhaps she was truly sick," the boy suggested. "Spent the last three days sitting on the throne, shitting her bowels out. Disgusting!"

Both of them laughed raucously at that and Sansa used the occasion to attempt to pull herself free, yet Meryn tightened his grip around her wrist, so much so that she cried out again. A pang of agony ran through her arm and tears began pricking her eyes. Don't cry. Don't cry, she ordered herself. In that instant, she wasn't sure if she was more terrified they'd end up injuring her in truth or that she'd break down right in front of them.

Thankfully, just as she was beginning to fear that she wouldn't be saved from either, someone pushed Meryn hard enough that he lost his grip on her wrist.

"Hey, stop that! Don't you hurt her!" Podrick shouted.

Sansa backed away from Meryn and Joffrey even as Pod protectively interposed himself between them. Podrick? she thought in surprise. Since when was he so brave?

"Hey, pimple face! What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Joffrey yelled at him, his head and neck as red as a tomato and the big artery in his neck pumping noticeably. "Get him, Meryn!"

"My pleasure," the latter said, a mean grin stretching his lips.

His jaw dropping and face turning white, Podrick took a step back, apparently only now realising the trouble he had gotten himself into. "L… leave us, n…n… now!" the boy said, his usual stammer back with a vengeance.

Meryn was a good head taller than Sansa, Podrick and Joffrey and even had a small beard, which made him look much older than he actually was. He was very intimidating without a doubt and well aware of it. Pod held no chance against him and they all knew it.

"Beat him up!" Joffrey commanded, an evil, crazy spark passing though his eyes.

By the look on Meryn's face, he was all too happy to oblige. He punched his closed fist into his palm and took another quick step in Podrick's direction, ready to attack at any instant.

"Joffrey! Meryn! What in the Seven is going on over here?" Mrs. Mordane's stern voice came from further away in the corridor. No one noticed the teacher's arrival, least of all those two, and they both started as they heard her words.

"Oh, nothing Mrs. Mordane," Joffrey hurried to reply, turning around to smile stiffly at her. "We were just chatting."

Meryn nodded in agreement, taking his distance from Sansa and Podrick in just a heartbeat to lean his back against the wall in an all too casual pose.

"Is that so?" the old woman asked, peering at Sansa and Pod over her reading glasses.

Pod opened his mouth to speak, however Sansa answered before he had a chance to utter a word. "It is, Mrs. Mordane," she said, not the reply either her friend nor her teacher had expected. Pod gave her a confused look to which Sansa replied with a gaze of her own, one that she hoped would sway him to keep quiet. "Thank you for your concern," she added, addressing the teacher. "Well, we better hurry now, or else we'll be late for our other class, won't we, Pod? Come!"

And with that, Sansa scurried away, grasping Podrick by the arm and pulling him behind herself. When they were far enough that they wouldn't be overheard, Sansa halted and turned to Pod.

"Thank you, Podrick," she whispered to him. "It was very brave of you to intervene. If it wasn't for Mrs. Mordane, Meryn would surely have punched you in the face. You shouldn't have risked it."

His cheeks flushed red, Pod looked down at his feet like he often did when Sansa and him were alone. "It's n… n…. nothing, Sansa. I h… hate what Joffrey has been doing to y… you," he stammered.

If Sansa hadn't felt so ugly and dishevelled, she might have wondered if it wasn't her proximity which made him blush. Yet in her present state, that anyone might think her pretty seemed impossible. Joffrey is right; I'm a nightmare to look at, she mused glumly.

"Why d… didn't you tell Mrs. Mordane that Joffrey was bullying you? He deserved to stay in detention."

Sansa knitted her brow, wondering the same for a moment. Sighing, she rubbed her hands over her face and let her shoulders drop. "You're right, I should have. But he's mean enough as he it is. I'd rather not give him more reasons to hate me. Let's forget about that now, okay? We should both hurry up because the bell is just about to ring. What do you say?"

Though he didn't appear to agree with everything she said, Pod nodded and they both headed toward their respective classroom.

The remainder of the day was long and tiresome for Sansa. Every few minutes, she peered at the clock and sighed in discouragement, dreaming of the blessed moment she could at long last lie down in her bed and peacefully drift peacefully to sleep. The only positive was that Joffrey did not bother her again, only stared at her loathingly from the other side of the cafeteria during the lunch break. That was enough to rob her of the little appetite she had though, and she had to force herself to ingest the egg salad sandwich Mum had prepared for her. The afternoon classes proved the hardest; she could barely keep her eyes open and ended up dozing off on her desk for the last half hour of the school day. When she finally arrived home afterwards, Sansa jumped into her bed without bothering to take off her plaid skirt and white blouse and fell asleep in just a few seconds.

She was awakened some time later by the sound of her sister talking very loudly on the phone, her laughter resounding through the wall they shared. The house was filled with the smell of Mum's pork chops and Sansa's tummy grumbled in complaint even before she truly came round. Gods, but she was starving! she realised as she twisted into herself on her mattress. The sandwich she had eaten for lunch was very, very far away.

Feeling slightly better than before she went to bed, Sansa gingerly stood up and yawned. Sleep had rested her body and given her well a chance to fill up a little, but it was nonetheless still much emptier than she liked. Not for the first time, she wished her father had not ordered her to drain it so completely this morning. What was a witch worth without her power? Not much, apparently.

Dinner was just as awkward as it had been for the last few days, but at least there was some semblance of exchanges. Surely to keep up appearances for her poor two unaware younger brothers' sake, Mum and Dad dutifully asked everyone in turn about their days and feigned interest as they listened to their stories of soccer practice and schoolyard chatter. When it was Sansa's turn, she was questioned about her teachers' reaction to her return to class after three days absence. Everything had gone well, she assured them, and her teachers and classmates were relived to see her back. Sansa left it there and kept this morning's incident to herself. Her wrist still stung from where Meryn had grabbed it and twisted her arm. Thank goodness Podrick interfered before he and Joff had a chance to truly hurt her. Because they would have, she was sure about it now. Ever since Joffrey dumped her, things had only escalated. Sansa shivered at the thought of it, suddenly very nervous. Chances were, Pod was right and she should've told Mrs. Mordane the truth indeed, yet would it really have helped in the long run? She wasn't convinced.

When dinner was over, Sansa hurried to her room, hoping to sleep at least a few more hours before the Hound's arrival. As she passed by her father's office, she noticed the pile of ancient velum books on his desk had grown even taller since she'd last seen it. For the last few days, all he had done from morning to very late at night was read every single thesis on demonology he could get his hands on and talk on the phone with Lewin for what seemed like hours sometimes. The dark circles under his eyes had only deepened, which made Sansa wonder if he would ever recuperate, yet she chased the thought away, unable to bear the guilt it roused in her. It would all turn around eventually, it had to.

After taking a long, very hot shower, Sansa jumped in bed without bothering to put on a nightgown. She fell asleep in just a couple of minutes, enjoying the liberating sensation of her conscience slowly leaving her body, of her limbs getting heavy and numb even as her soul grew as light as the wind. In no time, reality became a very distant thought and then, completely inexistent.

In her dream, she was walking through one of the school's corridors, though this corridor was much dimmer and longer than any she remembered. Sansa must have gotten lost in an area she had never ventured in before, for she didn't recognise any of the classrooms she passed by. Instead of her school uniform, she was dressed in the same frilly nightgown she wore the night of her Evocation ceremony. It was crumpled and bloodied where she had cradled her wounded hand against her chest and there were dark soot traces over its formerly white fabric. Although she didn't know why, Sansa trembled with fear and gasped for breath. By instinct, she began to stride and then, to run as if her life depended on it. It was dark, so very dark, and the few fluorescent lamps that lit the place flashed like stroboscopes. Soon, sobs began shaking her uncontrollably even as tears poured down her cheeks, so much she was nearly blinded. And then suddenly, her flight came to an abrupt stop as she bumped into something hard.

"Little miss perfect," Meryn said, grasping her by the wrist.

Sansa yelped in pain and tried to free herself, but he only tightened his hold on her and twisted her arm.

Joffrey was there also, she realised in dismay and he was gazing at her, a smirk twisting his disgusting, wormy lips. "Gods, how hideous she is. Look at her," he sneered. "Beat her bloody, Meryn. She deserves it for being so repulsive."

Laughing, Meryn nodded in agreement. He raised his fist high, ready to punch her right in the nose. Shutting her eyes, Sansa let out a cry of despair, yet before he had time to do anything, a series of brusque and rapid movements was heard around them and he unexpectedly let go of her.

"You bastard," a very, very raspy voice hissed. "No one hurts my little witch."

Her eyes opened at once, Sansa was stunned to see the Hound standing just behind Meryn, holding him by the throat. Or more precisely, it was his dark outline that she saw, the tall, pointy horns and large bat-like wings like a backdrop to Meryn's purple face. Desperate guttural noises escaped his open mouth even as a thin rivulet of blood slowly ran down the corner of his lips. Unfazed, the Hound kept on closing his fingers around his neck until Meryn stopped convulsing at last and became as limp as a ragdoll. Tossing his lifeless body to the floor, the fiend turned his attention on Joffrey.

"No! Please don't kill me, Mister Demon!" Sansa's ex boyfriend pleaded, sounding very childish. He took a step back, holding his open palms in front of himself.

However, unluckily for him, the Hound didn't listen and plunged his clawed hand right through his heart. He withdrew it, his fingers dripping thick droplets of dark blood, and let Joffrey's corpse fall heavily onto Meryn's carcase.

"Little bird, I'm here," the demon rasped, turning to gaze down at her.

He was so tall, his grey skin as dark as tar in the dimness and his eyes shone like stars in the night sky. Sansa lost herself in them, grateful for his timely arrival.

"Little bird," a very real voice whispered to her. "Little bird," the voice repeated, waking her up. "I'm here."

And indeed, there he was, right on top of her in her bed. Sansa looked into his blazing eyes, disoriented and dizzy for the time it took the haze of sleep to dissipate. Gods, how heavy and warm he was… she twisted under him, unsettled. It was all just a dream, she mused, blinking. And yet it had seemed so real…

The Hound was grinning at her, like he was pleased with himself. "They're just kids, those who torment you. And that one with that tiny bit of witch blood is just so bloody weak. I could crush him like a gnat under my boot. There's no reason you should allow them to keep the upper hand."

Her heart hammering in her chest, Sansa stared back at him, utterly confused. "I… I don't understand. Who are you talking of? How… how do you know?"

The Hound furrowed his good brow, looking slightly perplexed. "I was there with you just a moment ago. You saw me, didn't you? I killed them."

"But… but, I was dreaming. It wasn't real…"

The demon snorted, like she said something stupid. "The line between what's real or not is a very blurry one, you know, one a demon can cross easily enough, especially when the pretty little witch he's bound with needs to be rescued." With his knuckle, he caressed her cheek, very softly. "We're one, remember, Sansa? One. I'm always by your side, will always be. Even when you don't see me. Even when you dream."

For a moment, it was as if Sansa forgot to breathe. Her mouth was dry, her palms clammy. She wasn't sure how she should feel about his claim and kept hearing his words echo in her mind, over and over again.

"I could kill them for real, if you wanted it. It would be so fucking easy, too easy in fact," the Hound breathed, his grin broadening into something feral and scary.

Sansa gasped at hearing his suggestion. "No! Don't you dare kill anyone!" she let out with far more verve than she had intended.

The Hound appeared taken aback at first, for his eyes widened, but then he uttered the roughest laugh Sansa had ever heard and rolled off of her to lay on his side next to her. He was naked, same as her, and the blankets she had covered herself with when she went to bed were nowhere to be seen. There was something vulgar about the way each line of his muscular torso grew more defined as he guffawed. He seemed so at ease, like he didn't have a care in the word, and Sansa watched him, transfixed.

"You think I've never killed before? Didn't end up in the Seven Hells for no reason, you know," he informed her, his teeth bared. "I don't remember much of the time when I was still a living, breathing man - been too bloody long - yet if there's one thing that I do remember, it's that I've killed plenty and of all sorts." He narrowed his eyes at her, clearly taking pleasure in her evident shock. "Rich men, paupers, warriors and septons. Women and children too, didn't matter to me. They were all meat and I, the butcher."

Horror-stricken, Sansa's spine uncurled into the mattress till she was as stiff as a bow. She was dumbstruck, unlike the Hound who himself apparently couldn't stop talking.

"I killed more recently as well, plenty of times. Had many occasions to. Any idea of how it came about?"

At a loss for words, Sansa only shook her head.

The Hound smiled and brought a clawed hand near her cheek to caress her hair. "There are witches in the Eastern parts of Essos who have found a way to summon armies of demons." He approached her, his eyes flashing. "They do it without bounding themselves to any– they don't break the demons' shackles, only stretch their tethers temporarily. And then, they make them fight their wars. I've been among those armies, killing in the dark of night for an hour or two before being sent back to the Seven Hells. There's not much to gain from such exchange for us devils, yet none would ever refuse a chance to escape from the buggering Seven Hells, even if only for a few minutes, and those Eastern witches use that knowledge to their advantage. The clever bitches."

Shuddering, Sansa looked at him like she was seeing him for the first time. He's a demon, what was I expecting? She really shouldn't be surprised by his admission and yet she was. "This is… this is horrible. I hope you never kill again and I certainly don't want you to do it for me," she murmured with tears in her eyes.

His amusement giving place to annoyance in the blink of an eye, the Hound glowered at her, a very frightening sight to behold. "If you won't let me rid you permanently of those boys, you'll at least need to make them pay. I told you the other day that I could teach you how to control them. You could get into their minds and make them do whatever you wished. Off the top of my head, I can think of a dozen things that would do well enough, I told you of a few already. You refused. Why? Those bastards certainly deserve to be humiliated. They bothered you again today, I know it. I could feel it all the way from the Void."

"You're right," Sansa admitted in a weak, trembling voice. She swallowed, adamant about telling him her mind, no matter how much he intimidated her. Wasn't she supposed to be the master in this relationship? "But I have not changed my mind. I… I don't want you to intervene and I certainly don't want to break witch law by casting spells on them."

The Hound glared at her. "You're stubborn. Don't know why," he hissed through clenched teeth. "You'll change your mind eventually, you'll see. But in the meantime…" he trailed off, gazing down at her naked curves with unhidden interest. "In the meantime, I know of something you won't refuse, something you'll beg me for very soon in fact."

A small smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, he brought his face to the crook of her neck to nuzzle it and lowered his hand to her crotch. Sansa sucked in her breath, his touch having an instantaneous effect on her. In no time, she was wet and mewing like a kitten, which seemed to please the Hound.

Around them, the telltale scent of metal rapidly thickened. Sansa's head spun with delight and confusion and before she could understand what was happening to her, the Hound had spread her legs and placed himself between them. With no more foreplay, he plunged his rock-hard dick in her. A deep groan escaped her lips as she felt herself stretch around him, his massive member going deep within her from his very first thrust. There was no pain, only the now familiar and yet still incredibly overwhelming sensation of being oh, so very full, and Sansa eagerly rocked her hips with his.

"Yes, good girl," the demon said lowly, cupping her cheek. Then, narrowing his eyes at her, he barred his teeth and added like it was a threat: "You're gonna come for me now, little bird, you hear me? No beating around the bush this time around. You'll be screaming in ecstasy in just a moment, you'll see."

With that, he dramatically increased the strength of his spell. In just a couple of seconds, the air of the room became so thick, it was like being in a copper smelling sauna. Sansa coughed and then, whimpered as her loins started throbbing with unforeseen intensity. Never before had the Hound cast a spell so potent on her so soon, there had always been a progression to his bewitchment of her and this new approach was just as scary as it was thrilling.

"Oh, gods," she let out, totally overwhelmed by the sudden strength of her need.

The Hound snorted "Never been mistaken for a god before, quite the opposite in fact…" he rasped, finding her clitoris with his fingers.

Adding pressure, he watched her squirm under him, a strange spark shining in his eyes. Sansa could hardly control herself already and lost it altogether when he began tracing small circles over her clit. She let out a series of moans, each more lascivious than the last, and nearly sobbed in relief when the Hound at long last started pounding himself well and truly in her. Closing her legs around his muscled lower back, she bucked her hips against his, feeling her own moisture drip down her butt crack a little more with each of his easy, powerful shoves in her.

As promised by the Hound, her climax was near, so very near already, and in her present state, it was all Sansa could think about. She would have begged for it in fact had forming words been a possibility at that instant. It was not, so instead, she arched her back and pushed her pelvis against the demon's groin, relishing the intoxicating currents the action sent through her. She revelled in all the little signs that signaled her release was near, that she would soon be relieved of this unbearable tension the Hound and his dark art had roused in her. Yet at the same time, she was growing more and more impatient. She wanted the real deal, and she wanted it now.

And then just as Sansa was about to sob in frustration, a torrent of bliss washed over her, crushing her into the bed beneath her just as brutally as a river breaching a dam. While she had been waiting for it, praying for it even, she cried out, the violence of it taking her aback. As she did, the Hound twisted her hair in a knot around his fist and pulled, hard, until her throat was revealed. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and whispered lowly in her ear:

"You approach him, in your mind's eye," his low rumble of a rasp came. "Up close, till you're near enough to feel him, who he is. You'll sense his physical barrier then…"

Her eyes popping open in panic, Sansa let out a groan of protest. She knew where he was going with this and the last thing she wanted was to hear the rest of it, yet there was no way of stopping him. She was literally paralysed by her own pleasure, her orgasm having effectively tethered her to the mattress.

The Hound made good use of her helplessness and, never faltering from claiming her, he kept on muttering his vile words. "The hardest part is to make your way inside of him, but you'll manage it easily enough. Just concentrate on a very, very small section of the bugger's barrier, something like a cubic millimetre or less. And then, you send the hugest bolt of energy you can, and puncture right through it. It won't withstand the strength of your blow, believe my bloody words."

"No, stop it," Sansa breathed weakly even as wave after wave of utmost ecstasy kept coursing through her. She was shaking in rapture, totally at the devil's mercy. That was what he had intended, she knew.

"In order to control him, you'll need to create invisible strings, tying him to your fingers," he added, his voice raw and thin. "Just by moving your hand, you'll have the power to make the bastard do whatever you please. He'll be yours, with no protection whatsoever from you. You'll be his master…"

"No…" Sansa murmured, convulsing as the culmination of her orgasm finished subjugating her. She shut her eyes and, unable to control herself, she clung to the Hound like her life depended on it and grounded herself against him.

As she did, the demon stopped talking at long last and bit hard at her neck. With his clawed hand clenched around her waist, he guided his comings and goings, hammering himself in her with increasing strength until he at long last found his own release. His rough grunts joined in with Sansa's dying moans, for a time, but soon enough, both of them grew limp and a heavy silence fell over the room.

It took what seemed like an eternity to Sansa before she regained full consciousness. While she did not remember changing position, she was lying on top of the Hound when she came round, his sticky, nearly boiling-hot sperm slowly dripping from her folds. Groaning, she opened her eyes in slits and stretched. As she did, her gaze fell on his bat-like wings, spread wide under him and taking up the entire width of her queen size bed. His eyes were closed, she noticed, like he was sleeping. But that didn't seem likely. How could something that was dead sleep? Whatever the answer to that question, there was no denying he appeared somewhat peaceful in his rest. The notion surprised her at first and then, aggravated her as she remembered what he had just done to her. He's betrayed me.

Biting hard at her lip, she squeezed her eyes shut and lifted a hand to her face to rub it desperately. I'll forget it. I'll forget it all. Everything, she told herself, the words like a prayer. Perhaps if she repeated them often enough, they would become true indeed. Or, if not, perhaps she could cast a spell on herself and then… and then…

"No, you won't," the Hound's gravelly voice interrupted her train of thoughts. "This'll be useful to you, you'll see, little bird. You gotta stop with those doubts and fears that plague you. Fuck witch law. You gotta think of yourself first and foremost."

Tears filled Sansa's eyes. "But you don't understand! I didn't want to know, I would have rather remained ignorant! Why did you have to do this?"

"Did it for your own good. You'll change your mind and thank me eventually, you'll see," the demon said, his voice no more than a rough whisper. With his hand, he caressed her hair, unexpectedly gently.

Sansa furrowed her brows and stiffened, yet she didn't try to push him away and remained silent. There was no use in arguing with a demon, not when the damage was already done. Still whatever he said, she would prove him wrong. This would never be useful to her and she would forget indeed. Soon, she'd fall asleep, and when she woke up, it would all be gone, forever from her mind, she decided.