As always, special thanks to Athena-Noctua-Bubo for betaying this chapter!

The night sky was incredibly beautiful and clear. Not a cloud obscured the full moon and it shone so brightly that no other source of lighting was needed. For the last few hours, Sansa and the Hound chilled on the balcony by her parents' third story bedchamber, drinking wine and chatting, comfortably slumped on the outdoor sectional sofa. The balcony on the top floor of the Starks' old Victorian house was very private. Nobody could see them from the neighbouring houses or the street and since her parents were away at the Wall for the weekend, why not spend time there? Sandor had wished for some fresh air and the weather was so very pleasant for the season.

"Take another sip, Sansa," Sandor prompted, handing her the wine bottle. She did not refuse even though she was getting quite inebriated. If there had ever been an occasion to get drunk, it was tonight. Bran and Rickon were spending the weekend with some friends and Arya was hanging out gods knew where with her roguish friends. The house was completely empty apart from her and Sandor.

After taking a swallow, Sansa gave the Hound the bottle back, but he gestured for her to keep it.

"It's almost empty. Your turn little bird. Show me what you can do," he bade her. Baring his teeth in a wide grin, he leaned into his seat and folded his arms behind his head, revealing hairy armpits as he did.

Sansa burst out laughing and lowered her face into her hands. Her head swam a bit and she wondered for an instant if she'd manage to cast a proper spell in her altered state, yet she shortly gathered herself and straightened her back. Shutting her eyes, she concentrated on the raw power that bubbled in her well. It was so very full - she and the Hound had had sex multiple times before they came out on the balcony. Calling upon that strength in her, she visualised the level of wine rise in the bottle all the way to its neck. Soon, energy coursed through her, going from her well to the wine bottle even as a strong scent of metal filled the air around them. Sandor grunted proudly, informing her the operation had been a success. And indeed, when Sansa opened her eyes, the bottle was full again.

"Excellent work, little bird. You did very well again," the Hound told her, his strange animalistic eyes flashing in the dimness. "Give it to me now. Wanna taste the fruit of your labour."

Sansa passed him the bottle and he took a long, noisy swig.

"Delicious. No alteration to the wine's taste," he commented afterwards. "I can sense you're gaining total control over your power. You don't throw your might aimlessly at your target like you used to anymore. Your spells are done more efficiently, there's a calmness to them, a maturity."

Sansa blushed deeply and giggled. "Thank you. I did get a lot of practice lately."

"That you did. And you'll keep getting more, I'll see to that. It'd be a crime to have all that power and let it go to waste." With that, he shifted his position on the sofa and reached out to stroke her face with his hand.

Sansa sighed happily and leaned into his touch. His skin was abnormally warm, she loved the feel of it so much, and she shut her eyes, losing herself in the simple caress for an instant.

"Sansa… It still makes me proud to think of the way you handled those bastard boys. They didn't bother you again, didn't they?"

At hearing his words, Sansa opened her eyes and threw her head back so that it leaned against the cushion behind it. Her feelings about last week's events were not as straightforward as Sandor's; she was torn between a deep sense of pride and satisfaction and a whole lot of guilt. Sandor lowered his hand from her cheek and narrowed his eyes at her in a way that told her he knew very well what was on her mind and disapproved.

"They have not," Sansa said, shaking her head. She rubbed her face with her palms. Gods, she was getting dizzy. "Joffrey missed class all week. I've heard rumours he may change school. I wouldn't be surprised if he did indeed. Now that Boros and Meryn have turned against him, he won't have his cronies to serve him as body guards anymore. And so many people witnessed him taking a bashing. Joffrey cannot stand being humiliated, he's ridiculously proud, and his mother is the same. She'll probably find him a boarding school in some other town where he can start afresh and build his reputation as the coolest guy around once more."

The Hound snorted in disgust. "What a poxy little piece of shit. He'd have earned a much worse fate than the one you gave him. You're much too merciful, little bird. And the little bugger certainly never deserved you either. It was a mistake on his part to dump you, yet a blessing in disguise for both you and I." Sandor look a long swig, his eyes gleaming in the darkness and pinned on her.

"Yes, I agree of course. I'll be glad if I never seen him again, yet there's… there's Margaery who's still there…"

"Margaery? That's the bitch who stole him from you, isn't?"

Sansa burst out giggling. No one would ever dare call Margaery a bitch, she was far too popular for that and everyone seemingly secretly hoped they could, one day perhaps, become her best friend. She was the most fashion forward girl at school, had new outfits every week and drove the nicest car among all the students and even the teachers. How hard it must be for her to see, in just one day, her boyfriend go from the coolest guy in school to a total loser who'd gotten thrashed in front of dozens of people? Though she was ashamed to admit it, deep down, Sansa did take a great deal of gratification from Margaery's abrupt fall from grace. She had never thought of herself as vindictive and yet, here she was.

"Yes, that's her," Sansa said, craning her neck to distractedly peer at the moon. She's from a witch family too. I told you about it, haven't I?"

The Hound nodded.

"Well, she's guessed all that happened to Joffrey is my doing. She didn't tell me so, she's too subtle for that. But I can tell by the way she looks at me when we chat, by the comments she makes…"

"Fuck her. Who cares what she thinks? What is she going to do about it anyway?"

"I don't know, but I don't like it."

Waving her worry away with the back of his hand, Sandor grunted dismissively. "Don't worry about the bitch and drink some more wine, little bird," he bade her, handing her the bottle.

Sansa took a sip, a big one. She was starting to appreciate the taste of wine. It was not as bad as she had first believed, far from it. Besides, the more you drunk of it, the better it got she had realised.

"If ever the bitch becomes too much of a problem, we'll deal with her," the Hound told her, his gleaming yellow and grey eyes fixed on her. "There's always a solution. She's probably just jealous of you anyhow, because of how powerful and stunning you are. Not everyone deals well with the success of others."

Though Sansa wasn't convinced Sandor was right about this, she didn't share her doubts with him. She gave the bottle back to him and he took another lengthy pull. When he lowered it from his mouth it was nearly empty again, but for a minute only, for a whiff of metal reached her nose and the level rose before her very eyes.

"It's the same as your parents and their vain hopes of finding some cure against my presence in your life - there's nothing they can do. Them going to the Wall to meet with that old crone, it's a waste of their time of course. Still, a good thing in spite of it as far as I'm concerned. It's allowing us to spend some quality time outside of your chamber for once. I'm enjoying the fresh air. It's pretty damned pleasant in fact."

"It is a nice night indeed," Sansa agreed, shutting her eyes just for a short instant. She was getting tired, but it was only normal after all the wine she had drunk and given how late it was. Resting her eyes for a few seconds couldn't hurt, it was very soothing in fact and as the moment stretched, she felt her mind slowly drift away same as it did during the first phase of sleep…

"Little bird… why don't you come over here and sit on my lap now?" Sandor's raspy voice brought her back to reality. "I could fuck you just as hard and deep as you love, what do you say? I'm already hard just thinking about it," he crooned.

Her eyes popping open, Sansa turned to gaze at him. "Here?" she asked, taken aback and a bit groggy.

"Why not? You told me yourself no one could see us," he murmured, rubbing his hardened dick through his breeches.

Biting her lip, Sansa glanced down at the hand he was caressing himself with. Already, the scent of cooper invaded the space around them and heat pooled in belly.

"Come on, you won't be cold, I'll warm you…" the Hound insisted, gesturing for her to approach.

Sansa didn't have it in her to resist, she really wanted him as well, no matter that she was about to fall asleep just an instant before, and here under the stars was not such a bad place indeed.

Moving across the couch, she did as he asked and straddled him. She was wearing a thin black dress which was loose around her body with a jeans jacket over it. Sandor easily slid his hands under the fabric and caressed her ass and waist. His fingers slid under her panties and found her wet and ready. With his thumb, he rubbed her nub in delicious, concise circles and he plunged his index and middle finger in her. Sansa swung her hips against his hand and let out soft little moans, her hands busy stroking his erection through his breeches.

Already, Sansa could sense her climax was near. She really wanted to feel Sandor's big cock in her as it came on her. Her fingers clumsy in their haste, she fumbled with the laces of his breeches to free it when her phone rang.

Sansa jerked her head to peer at it on the small coffee table. Who ever could be calling her at this hour? "It's my sister," she said between pants.

"Let it ring," the Hound muttered. Even as he spoke, he placed his freed penis at her entrance and sheathed it in her.

Sansa groaned and rocked her pelvis, ignoring the lively little music her phone emitted. Yet no sooner had it stopped ringing than Arya called again. That was strange. Very, very strange…

"My sister again," Sansa said. "She never calls me twice in a row like that. She never calls me at all in fact, much less in the middle of the night! I have to answer!"

"Don't, little bird. I'm not done with you," Sandor growled. With his hands on her hips, he tried to keep her in place, yet Sansa was too fast for him and succeeded in wiggling herself free.

She landed on her butt by his side on the couch and hurriedly moved away from him for fear that he would attempt to grab her back. "Arya. What is it?" she asked after she had picked up the phone.

"Sansa! Thank gods you answered! I'm in trouble! Big trouble!" her sister said in an insistent whisper.

"What happened? Tell me!" Sansa demanded, worried.

By her side, Sandor was disgruntled. The corner of his mouth twitching, he fixed her with a burning glare, his closed fist going up and down his erect cock.

"I'm at the police station."

"What?" Sansa all but shouted.

Furrowing his one good brow, the Hound tilted his head to the side and slowed down his strokes on his dick.

"I was arrested. Gendry and I were doing this huge, epic graffiti under the viaduct not far from school. We were almost done when a police car drove by. We tried to flee and Gendry succeeded, the lucky bastard, but they caught me!"

"Oh my gods!" Sansa let out, horrified.

"Yes, I know! This sucks so much; it's Gendry that should've been caught, not me!" She paused and then added in the smallest of murmurs: "The cops, they trust Mum and Dad to deal with this and told me there won't be any charges against me so long as either of them picks me up at the station. I told them I was calling Mum…"

"But she's not here and you know it!" Sansa reminded her, creasing her brow in a frown

Arya sighed audibly. "Of course, you dummy. But you could come to pick me up and make yourself pass for her."

"That would never work! I don't look anything like Mum!" Sansa cried out.

"What? Have you looked at yourself in a mirror recently?" Arya scoffed. She had probably spoken a bit too loudly, for she continued in a hushed tone. "You're her splitting image! Just twenty-five years too young, I'll give you that, but you have Skill now, don't you? Perhaps there's a way you can alter your appearance just enough to fool the cops into letting me leave with you?"

"I don't know how to do that, Arya!" Sansa pointed out, her heartbeat accelerating at the very thought of attempting such a thing.

"Maybe your demon boyfriend can help you with that?"

Sansa glanced furtively at the Hound. The latter was watching her with great interest from his end of the couch. His muscular thighs spread, he still held his half hard dick in hand but had stopped pleasuring himself. Sansa had no doubt he'd gladly teach her any new spell she asked, yet the prospect of making herself pass for her mother made her extremely ill at ease.

"It's possible, but did you consider that… that maybe, I just don't want to do that, Arya? Besides, everyone in town knows mum. They'll ask me questions, will try to chat with me… No! I don't want to have to play that game!"

There was silence at the other end of the line, followed by a sharp intake of breath. "Sansa… Sansa you owe me," Arya whispered, her anger unmistakable. "I helped you conceal your summoning, remember? I cleansed the house of your demon's psychic scent and showed you how to shield yourself! You promised you'd make it up to me. It's payback time! I need your help so badly now!"

Sansa gulped as the memory came back to her. She had not forgotten, of course. She couldn't refuse Arya indeed, not after everything she had done for her. "All right. I'm… I'm sorry, you're right. I'm coming now," she said in a small, sheepish voice. "I'll see what I can do and here's hoping it works out. Tell the cops Mum is on her way."

Arya breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Sansa!"

After hanging up, Sansa let out a deep, shivering lament and lowered her face in her hands. Tears filled her eyes; she wanted to weep so badly, yet she managed to master her emotions by some miracle.

"What was that, little bird?" the Hound rasped, moving over the couch to be nearer to her. "What's distressing you?"

"My sister is at the police station. She's been arrested!" Sansa told him, lowering her hands to and wringing them in front of her chest.

Sandor grunted. "What did she do?"

"Graffiti under a viaduct."

"Graffiti?" he repeated, arching his one good brow.

"It's when you write or draw something on a wall with spray paint. It Arya's new favourite activity, unfortunately."

The snort the Hound uttered was filled with derision. "She got arrested for some stupid little drawing, did she? Those senseless fucking men laws again…" He shook his head in disbelief.

"Arya told the policemen who arrested her she was calling our mother. And now, she wants me to come pick her up in her place! She wants me to find a way to make myself pass for her!" As she spoke the words, Sansa throat's tightened, as if she was about to cry. "Oh gods! I really don't want to have to do this!"

"Why not? This could be an interesting experience for you. Taking your mother's likeness shouldn't be a problem in the least. There's plenty of ways you could manage it, though the most efficient would be to create some sort glamour you'd wear on your face as a mask."

"I don't know if I'd be able to achieve it. I never did anything like that!" Sansa retorted. Panic taking over, she stood up pacing about the balcony. "Oh gods! This is a true nightmare! Why does Arya always have to get into trouble? Can't she enjoy harmless, legal activities like regular people do? Like say, play a musical instrument, do yoga, paint or even play video games? I'm drunk, it's the middle of the night… Whyyy?" she cried out, tears welling in her eyes and rolling down her cheeks.

"Calm down, little bird," Sandor said. "It's gonna be just fine. You're a powerful witch, remember?"

Her brows knitted in despair, Sansa gazed at him like he was her only hope. "You really think so?"

"I do," Sandor replied. Sitting straight, he pushed his dick back in his breeches and folded his arms behind his head. "But if it makes you feel better, I could come with you and show you how to go about to weave your spell.

"You would do that?" Sansa asked in a high-pitched squeak.

"Why not? You think I'd refuse my little mistress anything?"

"Oh, gods! Thank you so much, Sandor!" Sansa exclaimed, jumping on his lap and throwing her arms around him.

With him to back her up, her confidence level was boosted significantly; enough that she hoped she'd manage to retrieve her sister without a hitch. She laughed, the nervous laugh of someone who believed an instant before catastrophe was just about to strike.

"You'll thank me later on, Sansa. We should get going, dawn is coming," the Hound rasped, giving a gentle tap on her shoulder.

"You're right," Sansa said, standing up. "What time is it by the way?" She picked up her phone from where she had left it on the coffee table and gasped as she saw how late, or perhaps more precisely, how early it was.

"Oh my gods! Sandor! It's already 5:57am. The sun will be up in just a half an hour! We'll never get to the police station and pick up Arya with so little time."

Sandor grunted. "That's gonna be a problem indeed," he muttered, the burnt corner of his mouth twitching.

"Oh no! What are we going to do?" Sansa howled. A whimper escaping her lips, she collapsed by his side on the couch and lowered her face in her hands. Uncontrollable sobs shook her. It was so hard to see her hopes turn to ashes in a question of seconds!

The Hound's large clawed hand snaked around her shoulder and pulled her to him. With his other hand, he cupped her cheek gently. "Don't cry, little bird," he breathed. "You know, there may be a way I could stay with you and be by your side as you cast your spell…"

That caught Sansa's attention. "Even after the sun rises?" she asked, tipping her face up to meet his stare.

"Yes," he said, his strange eyes flashing in the darkness.

"I thought demons and sunlight didn't go together," Sansa said, confused. "That's what I've read in the grimoire I found the Evocation ceremony in and you always disappear when the first rays of light enter my room. Why haven't you stayed before if you can?"

"Because the grimoire is right and I can't indeed. Yet, there's a way to change that. A little ceremony a witch can do with her demon."

Sansa pulled back from him and tilted her head to the side. "A ceremony? What's that about?"

"Nothing complicated or very long, though we'd need to head to the woods by your house at once."

Sansa bit at her lip. "What would it imply?"

"Not much. All we need are candles and some sort of altar. You'll have to dance and sing some pretty little song and then, we'll fuck as the sun appears on the horizon. And after that, I'll be able to stay with you even with that great ball of fire burning in the sky and we'll head to the police station to pick up your sister, together. What do you say about that?"

Her heart accelerating, Sansa watched him with wide eyes. She wasn't sure how she should feel about this, not at all. While she was more and more comfortable with the Hound, a small part of her was always secretly relieved to see him leave at dawn. At the same time, she couldn't imagine going to the police station on her own and Sandor's support would lend her the courage she lacked. She couldn't let Arya down, not after all she had done to help her in the wake of her Evocation. If this was her only option, well so be it.

"Alright. Let's do it," Sansa blurted out before she changed her mind.

A wide grin spread on the Hound's face and for a moment, Sansa was seized with a strange sense of foreboding. "That's my girl," he rasped, a bright, fleeting spark passing through his eyes. He kissed her, unexpectedly softly, and the feel of his lips against hers instantly reassured her. The Hound was bonded to her, he was her demon and she his mistress, and he'd never do something that was not in her best interest, it wouldn't make any sense

"Go fetch the candles, we better get going now," he said once their lips had parted. "You have any?"

Sansa stood up. "Yes, I have a few I didn't use for the Evocation ceremony. I'll be back in just a sec!" With that she ran to her bedroom.

Moments later, she was back on the balcony, yet the Hound was nowhere to be found. "Sandor?" Sansa called, gazing around herself.

"I'm down here!" Sandor's voice came from the backyard.

Sansa hurried to the railing and gazed down to see the Hound, his neck craned as he looked up at her with eyes glowing in the darkness.

"Jump, Sansa. I'll catch you," he told her, raising his arms before him.

For an instant, Sansa remained totally motionless apart from her hands clenching and unclenching around the handrail. It seemed awfully high to hop down, yet in spite of her fear, she took a deep breath and strode over the railing without looking down.

Air flew around her, until she landed in Sandor's strong arms at the end of her short fall. "That was fun!" she said, bursting into a fit of giggles.

The Hound flashed her a grin. "Good. Let's hurry up now. No time to lose."

With that, he gently set her on the ground and, with a hand on the small of her back, led her to the forest that flanked the yard. Once they were surrounded by the tall conifers and aspens which inhabited her family's woodland, discerning what lay ahead grew harder with the trees' needles and remaining autumn leaves blocking the moonlight. And yet the Hound's vision was apparently not impaired in the least, for he walked fast and knew where to step so as not to trip on rocks and roots. Sansa would've been totally terrified had it not been for his presence, the forest at night had always seemed so sinister to her. No creature would ever attack her while such a fearsome demon stood by her side though, of that there was no doubt.

After what seemed like hours of walking in the darkness but had most likely been closer to five minutes, they arrived at a small clearing in the middle of which a large cedar grew.

"This should do it," Sandor said as he scanned the glade.

"What are we gonna do for the altar?" Sansa asked, glancing nervously around. There were many noises coming from the dense foliage of the trees and shrubs – an owl hooting, dead leaves blowing in the wind, twigs breaking - some just a couple of metres away - and other unknown sounds which the darkness granted a terrifying air. Shivering, she hugged herself and took a step towards the Hound.

"That's easy," the latter replied, winking at her.

Running up, he threw the heel of his hand at the tree trunk and cleaved right through it. The tree fell to the ground in a great creaking sound like that of a closing door followed by a thundering boom that made the ground quiver and birds fly from their nests.

Sansa took a step back as she watched it happen, totally taken aback.

"Here's your altar, Sansa" the Hound announced afterwards, gesturing at the flat surface of about a metre's width that was left of the tree. "Put the candles on it now."

She did as he said and placed the four black candles she brought with her on it. Sandor snapped his fingers and they all lit up.

"Now, little bird, come over here, close your eyes and listen carefully to my words. Repeat them when I'm done. A melody will reach your mind and you'll sing and dance once it does. It will all come to you naturally, you'll see."

"Alright," she breathed, approaching him until she stood right in front of him.

The Hound took both her hands in his huge clawed paws, enveloping them completely. "It goes like this: Free the demon to whom I am bound," he started in a low, gravelly voice. "Give him the power to see dawn so that daylight may touch him with no effect. He will survive under the sun just like any living creature. May darkness never again have the power to claim him when the sun reigns, may he roam this Earth free of the constraint of time."

Sansa concentrated on the words he spoke and allowed them to sink in for a few seconds. Then, she let go of Sandor's hands and took a few steps backward. "Free the demon to whom I am bound," she said softly. As promised, it came out as a chant.

She lifted her arms high above her. Already, she could sense a bolt of energy traversing her, from her feet to the tip of her fingers, as if she was channelling power from Earth's very core.

"Give him the power to see dawn so that daylight may touch him with no effect." An oddly warm wind for the season swept over the forest at than, but Sansa kept going in spite of it. "He will survive under the sun just like any living creature. May darkness never again have the power to claim him when the sun reigns, may he roam this Earth free of the constraint of time."

When Sansa opened her eyes, thunderbolts crisscrossed the night sky, the blinding light shortly followed by the loud rumble of thunder. For some reason, she was compelled to start dancing, very slowly. As she did, the beating of tom-toms started coming from the forest around them, as if there were dozens of players circling the glade. Sansa moved her arms around her and threw her head back, her movements accelerating to follow the increasingly frenetic, mysterious tribal music. A small smirk on his lips, Sandor approached her slowly. He walked carefully, in a graceful dance-like fashion. When he got before her, he circled her waist with his hands and lifted her in the air, as high as he could. Sansa gasped; it felt as if she was flying and she smiled as she admired thunderbolts illuminating the firmament.

"Free this demon, you buggers," Sandor murmured. Then, he carried her to their makeshift altar, pushed the candles so that they stood at either of its extremities and sat her in between.

Their eyes met and for a moment, Sansa thought he would kiss her, but instead, he plunged his face in the crook of her neck and bit her at the juncture of her shoulder, very hard. She let out a small cry of pain, yet did not try to stop him. When the Hound drew back, warm trickles of blood rolled down her shoulder and chest. Sansa peeked down at herself in shock and then, back at the Hound. Licking his bloodied lips, he rubbed his finger over her wound and traced some sort of enigmatic symbol with her blood over both his brow and hers.

"Your blood is like sweet wine to me, little bird. You used it to call me, remember? I even got to taste it once before…" As he spoke, he lifted her skirt and grabbed her panties on each side of her hips.

Sansa remembered it well enough; she still bore a large, ugly scar on the inside of her palm where she had drawn the blood required to summon a devil. He had licked her slash then too and healed it with a spell.

Instead of pulling her panties down as one might expect, Sandor tore them to shreds with his long, sharp claws. The thick tell-tale odour of metal reached Sansa's nostrils then, the aroma instantly followed by a sudden overwhelming yet delicious ache in her loins. Already, the Hound was placing the head of his cock against her slit, ready to impale her with his impressive length. Sansa's folds were soaking wet and he buried himself inside of her all the way to the hilt with only one slight swing of the hips. Moaning in pleasure, she lay both her palms on the altar behind her to balance her weight and grind herself against him. She repeated the motion, even as his huge member slid in and out of her, their movements following the continuous beat of the tom-toms.

"Sansa," Sandor panted. "Repeat after me, now...You'll have to say the prayer's words again," he breathed, his voice thick with arousal. Shutting his eyes, he took a moment to collect himself, yet did not halt in his comings and goings. "Free the demon to whom I am bound," the words came, deep and husky, after what seemed like an eternity to Sansa.

"Free the demon to whom I am bound…" she recited even as her body swayed with his incessant hammering. It was getting hard to keep her balance, thus she lowered her back over the altar and propped herself on her forearms.

"Give him the power to see dawn…"

Grabbing both her thighs, the Hound lifted them so that her legs wrapped around his torso. In reaction, Sansa arched her back to allow his dick to reach deeper within her and whimpered at the increased sensation this new position brought. "Give him the power to see dawn…" she half murmured, half groaned.

Sandor's large hands travelled from her thighs to her waist. He circled his fingers around it, his claws long enough that they crossed on her stomach. "So that daylight may touch him with no effect," he continued.

"So that daylight may touch him with no effect," Sansa repeated, her eyes rolling back.

Around them, the forest was alive with noises. Thunder still growled and a strong wind rose, making the high trees dance in the sky.

"He will survive under the sun just like any living creature," Sandor said, accelerating the cadence of his trusts in her.

Sansa gasped and threw her head back. "He will survive under the sun just like any living creature."

Her peak was near already and the Hound was just about to be hit by his as well, Sansa could tell by the force with which his chest heaved as he panted and the slight tremble of his grip on her.

"May darkness never again have the power to claim him when the sun reigns, may he roam this Earth, free of the constraint of time," he rasped, his voice weak and yet filled with exaltation.

Her face contorting with pleasure, Sansa barely managed to articulate the last sentence of the incantation. "May darkness never again have the power to claim him… when the sun reigns… may he may roam this Earth… free of the constraint of time…"

And with that, the loudest clap of thunder Sansa ever heard boomed in the forest even as lighting struck, its crackling detonation brutal enough that she screamed in fright. A split second later, pouring rain came crashing down on the forest, yet neither she nor the Hound stopped in their frantic coupling.

Sansa's core was a burning ball of wildfire in which pressure built towards an alarmingly high summit. If only the pouring rain could assuage her need even slightly, yet nothing but her sweet release could ever extinguish it. She wanted it so badly, so very badly…

And then, just as the storm reached a violent crescendo, Sansa's body finally gave in and she was overtaken by the most powerful orgasm she had ever experienced. The Hound came as well, their groans, moans and whimpers barely audible through the rain and wind that swept over the woods.

When they were done riding their pleasure, they both collapsed exhausted on the altar, Sansa on her back with her head hanging in the air and the Hound, on top of her with his wings open and falling limp around him like a great blanket. Sansa might have fallen asleep, her body badly needed rest after all the emotions she had gone through tonight and the long day she had, yet after some time, the warmth which spread over her exposed skin piqued her curiosity. She opened her eyes and gasped at the view of the bright and cloudless dawning sky that awaited her.

"Sandor!" she murmured, touching his shoulder. She could not see his face, his head was tilted down and turned opposite her.

"Sandor!" she called again when he didn't respond. Squeezing his muscled shoulder, she shook him as best she could, yet he was nothing but a lifeless, weighty mass over her.

"Sandor!" Sansa repeated, her voice filled with utter panic.

Had something gone wrong during the ceremony? Could they really have made a mistake dire enough that it put out what little semblance of lifeforce inhabited Sandor and kept him breathing and moving like any regular red-blooded man?

What in the Seven could have gone so terribly wrong?

But then just as she was about to call his name again, Sandor's large body shifted over her and he raised his face to meet her gaze and then, stare with wide eyes at the increasingly bright sky.

"It worked," he breathed like he didn't believe it, his voice as rough as a saw on stone.

Sansa exhaled, relieved and yet somewhat disquieted as well. "Yes," she agreed quietly.

Sandor shook his head and, with a vigorous push of his hands on the altar, swung himself upright. He seemed weary yet fuelled with the strength his amazement and incredulity granted him.

"It fucking worked," he repeated, louder. Baring his teeth in an increasingly wide grin, he strode about the altar, his stare continuously going from the woods to the clear blue sky above them like he didn't know where to look. There was an ecstatic spark in his eyes, one that made him look half crazed.

Sansa's little dress was sodden and plastered to her body, her ankle boots heavy and waterlogged. Without the Hound's closeness, she was swiftly growing cold. Sitting up, she hugged herself even as goosebumps sprouted all over her skin.

"Do you know how long it's been, little bird, since I've seen the light of day? Centuries. Centuries that I've been chained in the Seven Hells with its eternal fires for sole source of lighting," Sandor continued, his voice low and filled with undeniable elation. "But then after an eternity of suffering, like the little goddess you are, you came into my world, broke my shackles and freed me from the Seven Hells by binding yourself to me. And now, you just did even better and gave me yet another present. The best present of all. Freedom. Total, utter freedom. No more bloody Void for me during the day. I have no reason to dread dawn anymore. I can do whatever the fuck I want and there's nothing to stop me."

Sansa breathed in deeply, shaken by his words. Was this really what she had done: freed a demon into the world, one who had no constraint whatsoever to keep him somewhat in check?

The thought of it made her shiver in apprehension.

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