A Portentous Reunion? Chapter 5 - Clegane
#####
Note: "The Hound as Sansa's and Bran's sworn shield." Hmmm. I haven't resolved the "possible pregnancy of Arya" issue, but this sidebar will not leave me alone. Until D&D entertain us with more of their plot, enjoy this confection. The previous warning applies: This chapter is as fluffy as a pair of bunny slippers, although there is brief darkness.
#####
Previously:
The Hound is an unhappy man and I doubt anything will make him happy. Knight him and appoint him Sansa's sworn shield. She is unhappy, too, and they can be unhappy together."
####
More than two days had passed since the defeat of the Night King's army. The fallen heroes had been honored and mourned and the surviving heroes had been feted. Queen Daenerys was firmly in charge and had called her captains together to plan for the war against the Lannisters. Her combined armies had suffered grievous losses during the Battle of Winterfell, but she had dragons, ships, and determination. The permanent residents of the castle were working hard to restore their beloved home to its former glory. Gendry had managed to pry himself loose from Arya for a few hours to forge an elaborate set of hinges to repair the damaged doors to the Great Hall.
The Stark siblings observed that Arya and Gendry had completely vanished on the first day after the battle, and finally appeared together in the Great Hall for the evening feast on the second evening. The tale of the fierce warrior maiden, Arya Stark, the Vanquisher of the Long Night, was beginning to spread. History remembered eight thousand years of proud Stark warrior kings and queens, lords and ladies, and Arya's name would surely join the revered list of legendary heroes.
With that in mind, the participants at the feast were surprised to see the younger Lady Stark arrive on the arm of a tall, handsome young man who bore a startling resemblance to the late King Robert Baratheon, and wearing a pretty gown. While Gendry was working in the forge, Arya had gone to Sansa, who had found an attractive, modest grey dress for her, brushed out her shoulder-length chestnut hair, dabbed berry juice on her lips, and added a light coat of kohl around her eyes. Framed by her strikingly thick and dark eyebrows, Arya's countenance appeared as comely as that of her lovely sister, and the Northern bannermen beamed with pride and affection at the sight of Ned Stark's precious daughters. The couple took their places on the high dais, as word had spread that the bastard smith was actually highborn, and Jon narrowed his eyes and whispered sotto voce, "So good of both of you to join us. We feared that you had drowned!" Both Arya and Gendry blushed, and now Jon smiled and laughed as Sansa mirrored her brother's amusement.
#####
On the third afternoon after the battle, Jon requested that his servant fetch the Hound to his solar. Clegane arrived, with a wicked grin on his twisted lips. "I reckon that you wanted to learn more about the little wolf and the bastard smith, dragon boy. Well, I first saw them together when they were 'guests' of Beric Dondarrion. By the way they traded glances, I knew they wanted to fuck each other, but were too young and green to even know what to do. Ha! Imagine Beric's reaction if he had caught them playing the 'sword and sheath' together! Well, they are making up for lost time now! I'll wager they have not worn clothes for two days now!"
"Clegane!" Jon said wearily. He did not want to hear this.
"The other blacksmiths say that the Baratheon bastard has a cock the size of a tree. Your sister must be sore as hell and can barely walk from all that hammering!"
"CLEGANE!"
"The wolf girl really knows how to handle weapons, I'll give her that. I reckon that she is swallowing his sword right now!"
"CLEGANE!" Jon had jumped out of his chair, "Please stop!" He wiped his brow and took a deep breath, thinking, the last image I need in my mind is Arya bestowing the "Lady's Kiss" on Gendry!
Sandor smirked, knowing that he had achieved his goal of discomfiting the flustered Stark sibling. "Well, I'll wager that is as much as you wanted to know. Was there another purpose for calling me here?"
Recovering his composure, Jon nodded, "Very soon, everyone who can fight will be marching or sailing to confront Queen Cersei. A sufficiently large enough force will be left behind to defend Winterfell, however I worry about the personal safety of my sister Sansa and my brother Bran. I have seen you fight. You are a one-man army, Clegane. I would like to appoint you as the sworn shield to my siblings."
The Hound's eyes bugged out, "You want me to guard your sister?!"
"Aye, I trust you to protect them with your life. Consider this an honor that will wash away your past crimes."
He was about to argue about the notion of 'his past crimes', but instead replied, "I am not a knight."
"I would knight you so you could take this position. Would you accept knighthood?"
Sandor imaged himself attired in proud armor, standing next to his little bird. He slowly nodded, "I would, but only because it is necessary for what you want me to do." He would not elaborate, he might say too much.
Jon stood up and reached way up to clap the man on the shoulder. "Good! Let us go inform Lady Sansa on our agreement."
Jon knocked on the door to Sansa's solar and the two men entered. Sansa was standing by the window singing and Sandor's heart stopped. He had heard her voice in King's Landing. It had been the sweetest sound his ears had ever been honored to receive, and he was dumbstruck by her talent again. Sansa turned and looked quizzically at them and Sandor made an enormous effort to keep his mouth clamped shut. Sansa's handmaidens had not braided her hair yet, and the long auburn tresses flowed down her back. The masons had recently fixed the underground hot water heating system that warmed the walls of the castle, so cloaks and other outer garments were no longer necessary inside the keep. Sansa was wearing a lightweight linen gown, and although it was buttoned right up to her throat and the sleeves covered her arms to her wrists, the material hugged her body closely, accentuating the lush curves of her perfect womanly figure. Beads of sweat broke out on Sandor's forehead and he suppressed a gulp. He was mesmerized, but the sight of Sansa always did that to him. He realized that he was becoming aroused and hoped that his chainmail and heavy tunic hid the evidence.
As Sansa walked towards them, Jon announced, "Ser Sandor has agreed to become sworn shield to you and Bran."
To his surprise, Sansa stared directly at his face and addressed him, not Jon, "So it is Ser Sandor now, is it? You always insisted that you spit on knights, Clegane. Have you changed your mind?" The Hound did not know that Arya had told her sister how much it distressed him that people would not look him in the eye, and he had admitted as much when he told the wolf girl that he appreciated that she had never been afraid of his scars. Sansa was determined not to be that frightened little girl any more.
"It was necessary if I was to take on the obligation that Jon asked of me," he croaked, hoping that his words made some sense.
Sansa nodded and swiftly twirled around, her lovely auburn hair and the folds of her loose skirt swirling with her movement. She gracefully glided (to Sandor she was floating on air) to a nearby table to pour three goblets of Arbor Gold for them, as skillfully as a proper matron, and motioned for the men to join her. Clegane's eyes had been fixed on the rolling of her shapely arse and hips as she walked, and thought, If I do not find a whore within one hour of leaving this room, my brain will explode! Jon made a toast and Sandor took a sip of the wine. It was delicious and he drained the goblet in one gulp, smacking his lips with pleasure.
As Sansa refilled his goblet, she asked, "I take it that you like the taste of this vintage, Ser Clegane?"
A bit more relaxed, Sandor volunteered, "Aye, milady, I am used to wine that tastes little better than piss!"
Jon's head swiveled to stare at him, but Sansa laughed softly and queried, "So you are familiar with the taste of piss, Sandor?"
The Hound's face colored, "It is only an expression, milady. I have not drunk piss, at least not knowingly."
"I am relieved to hear that, Sandor," Sansa smiled.
Jon had been watching closely, now thinking, It is as Bran said, there is something going on between these two! He spoke up now, "I will leave you both to discuss the arrangements, while I go to inform Bran." He kissed his dear sister on the cheek and bid her adieu.
After Jon had left, Sansa addressed the Hound again, "Ser Sandor, I fear that you have agreed to be bored, because when I am done with my duties as the Lady of Winterfell each morning, I retire to my solar to do needlework with my handmaidens," nodding at the two girls sitting by the wall, working on their embroidery. "Mayhaps you would like to spend your time playing cyvasse or reading from my library. I have countless volumes of poetry and romantic literature."
"I am not overly fond of cyvasse," Clegane rasped.
"Then it will have to be my library," Sansa's eyes twinkled, "Mayhaps you can read poetry aloud while we ladies sew."
Sandor was startled, but realized that she was deliberately teasing him. He felt a small surge of anger and raising his voice, he brusquely replied as he glared at her, "You are toying with me, little bird!"
To his surprise, she smiled broadly, "Ah, that is the Sandor I have been waiting to see! I was afraid you had gotten meek since we parted!"
The Hound felt more in control again and growled, "I have killed a fuckload of men since we parted, little bird. Don't ever think of me as getting meek!"
Sansa's eyes widened and her pretty cheeks flushed slightly. "Oh my, I do remember how angry you used to be!"
Sandor stared and thought, I may be insane, but the little bird appears aroused! He shook his head in disbelief and was desperate to change the subject, any subject!
Luckily, Sansa stepped in. "Sandor, if you are to be my shield, you will require a new guardsman cloak. My maidens and I will sew and embroider it. Now, what color should it be? Mayhaps grey would be best, as I am sure that a white cloak no longer pleases you."
With a shock, a memory came to mind, hitting him like a bucket of cold water. It was the Battle of the Blackwater, so long ago. There were flames and wildfire, and he was truly afraid for his life and sanity. He fled the fighting like a coward, quickly got drunk on wine and went to Sansa's chamber with the insane idea of taking her out of King's Landing.
Sansa had come in and gasped at the blood on his face from his many wounds, also noting how his white Kingsguard cloak was soaked red with blood and soiled with the filth of the battle. He tried to talk her into fleeing with him for her safety, but only succeeding in fucking everything up, threatening her and scaring her to death, and although she was not much more than a child at the time, he climbed over her and made it clear that he wanted to fuck her. It was no wonder that she had problems with him.
And yet, when he later learned how Littlefinger and Ramsey Bolton had raped and abused her, he bitterly thought that mayhaps he should have just thrown her, such a little thing, his little bird, over his shoulder, and despite any protestation, escape the cursed Lannisters with her. Regardless of the dangers they would have faced, it might have been better for her. Seven hells, for all the shite they suffered together, the wolf girl had surely been safe with him!
Sandor's mind returned to the present and he looked up, realizing that Sansa was staring into his eyes. With another shock, he knew instantly that at that moment she was reliving the exact same memories and reflecting on the alternatives. He mumbled, his voice thick with emotion, "Grey is fine."
"Grey is shall be," she replied and placed her delicate, smaller hand over his huge one, "Would you like the sigil to be a direwolf? I do not think you are a dog anymore."
He had the rarest of sensations, as if he were about to cry. He hadn't cried since Gregor maimed his face. The little bird obviously meant something personal by the offer of the direwolf sigil! He took a deep breath and stilled his heart, "Aye, a direwolf."
"Good!" Sansa replied briskly. Then her manner became less familiar. "Sandor, I must prepare for the evening feast. My handmaidens are going to bathe me now." The girls stepped up and started to prepare her bath. "You can sit over there while I undress and bathe, or you can go about your own business for the moment."
Her hands were already unfastening the buttons near her throat and she fixed a questioning look on her face. This time he did blush like a green boy, hurriedly stood up, bowed, and choked out, "I will take my leave, milady."
"Kiss my hand first, Ser Sandor," Sansa said imperiously, extending her slim arm and fingers. He kissed her hand lightly and fled the room as quickly as he could, hearing the lady bid him adieu.
#####
Sandor dashed to the stables and shouted for a groom to saddle Stranger. As soon as the destrier was ready, he mounted and galloped towards Wintertown. Stranger sensed his master's urgency, and needed no spurring. Clegane pulled up to the biggest tavern, threw the reins over the post, and rushed inside. It was crowded, but he was taller than any other man there and had a good view. Spying a tall, sturdy, redheaded, buxom wench, he pushed his way through the crowd, noting her even teeth and a sprinkle of freckles over her nose. He approached her and shouted, "You! Come with me!" grasping one hand and shoving a small bag of gold dragons in the other.
She did not resist as he hurried her upstairs and Sandor found the nearest empty room. Pulling her inside and slamming the door shut, he feverishly started to pull his tunic over his head, then the chainmail. "I want you naked!" he was still fairly shouting, "This is no quick fuck!" The wench complied, removing all her clothes, revealing her shapely breasts and womanly figure. Sandor had just pulled off his boots and breeches and she stared at his soldier's body. He might have been hairy enough to make some women squeamish, but he was large and hard and muscular all over, with not an ounce of fat. The wench considered that he could be the model for the statue of the Warrior in Lady Catelyn's sept.
Sandor ordered the woman to lie down, and to her surprise, he did not immediately attack her cunny, but lavished attention to her breasts for much time, sucking and biting, squeezing her teats, even moaning with pleasure. He seemed to be very needy and she was actually enjoying his ministrations. When he finally entered her, he took care not to crush her with his weight, supporting himself on his elbows, and did not hurry. As he had said earlier, he wanted a long, drawn-out fuck, and took his time. She wrapped her legs around his waist and they pulsated against each other for much longer than usual. Sandor worked over her forever, trying different techniques and positions, and when he finally loudly and explosively came, she realized that she felt good, too.
Clegane rolled off the woman, sweating and panting heavily, and apologized for his fervor and his size, hoping that he had not crushed her. The woman was tracing her fingers over his scars, shocked at the number of them covering his torso. She murmured, "You didn't crush me. Actually, that was fun!"
Sandor's eyes cleared and he looked at her, blurting out, "I did not even ask your name!"
The woman laughed, "Ros. What's yours?"
"Clegane. Sandor Clegane."
Ros looked closely at him now and smirked, "I know you. You are the Hound. I was working here years ago when you arrived with King Robert, may he rest in peace. You even had me then, but I'll wager that you do not even remember. Do you?"
Sandor shook his head in embarrassment. He had taken so many whores in his life, even the wolf girl had seen him with whores, and he could not remember a one. "Nae, I do not remember you."
She did not seem insulted, but continued to trace his scars, "You were so angry and even nasty, I remember. You seem different now."
"I am different now," he replied, realizing that it was true.
"I like you better this way," her voice was soft, "Sandor?"
""Aye?"
"If you come back again, you do not need to bring gold. Just ask for me."
Sandor reflected, If I am to spend much time with the little bird, I may have to move in here! He surprised both himself and Ros by kissing her on the forehead, "I have a feeling that you may see me often!"
####
Note: This is not really SanSan shipping, but it is close enough!