CHAPTER 4

Davos was an interesting man to be around. From a humble background, his bravery and common sense had helped him rise in society to a position of trust. If one could do it, so could another - she thought, as she made her way with him along the gallery to watch the sparring below. Weapon training was well underway.

She was surprised to look out and see Arya and Sandor training together. Arya twisted and rolled from his lunges with sweeps like a dancer or circus performer. They were clearly keeping score. Halting, and staring one another down, with a dagger or spear held at an organ or throat. Sandor, being more used to a longsword, clearly preferred the spear but was equally skilled with the dagger.

It was obvious he found amusement in some of her methods, but he was put in his place when Arya flipped herself up on one hand, planting a two-footed kick on his chest. Knocked from his feet, he landed heavily on his back. Arya had quickly scampered on top of him to straddle his hips and hold a dagger at his throat. Sansa felt a burn of jealousy to see her sister sit in such a way. Arya had dismounted quickly, but the burn in Sansa remained. She knew it was illogical. There was nothing in their contact beyond sparring, but his touch was still warm upon her own skin, leaving her feeling territorial.

For the past two days, she would see him in the distance and her mind would drift momentarily to a fond caress. Her body would flush at the memory and she'd even been questioned about her wellbeing, when the burn of her skin had shown on her face.

Sandor roughly bested Arya in retaliation for the humiliation, and although Arya's face remained neutral you could see in her eyes that she was not well pleased. Neither seemed to be far ahead of the other in points, and they were both clearly enjoying the match. When Arya's weapon nicked Sandor's face, drawing a trickle of blood from his cheek, his eyes had been murderous, before quickly clearing to humour. His rumbling laughter was filling the air, but Arya was not watching his face; her eyes were for her sister and she smiled to herself when she saw a dark look loom over Sansa.

When Sansa had later found herself alone in a passage with Sandor walking towards her, she had stepped into the shadows encouragingly. He'd joined her there, a passionate kiss ensuing.

"We can't be here, little bird" he'd said in a gravelly whisper, his body pressed firmly against her.

"I know." She breathed, kissing him again and twisting out from between him and the wall, allowing Sandor to step into the void she created and lean against it. Her hand went to his cheek, her finger so near to his new wound.

"It is just to see my sister so near you, upon you, I ..." She couldn't find the words, her disturbance written on her face. Her other hand ran down his torso, her wrist twisting to reach under his tunic. Her fingers soaked in the warmth of his skin and it warmed her in her core as she began playing with the streak of hair that ran down from his belly button.

"Oh, I see." He whispered, a knowing smile upon his face.

They kissed once more, and she sighed as she stepped back into the passage. She gave him a look of longing from where she stood, and he hunched his shoulders as if to say, there is nothing I can do. Twisting her mouth, trying to rid herself of her annoyance, she set off down the passage.

When they dined that evening, Arya saw him enter the hall and beckoned him over. "Sit with me Clegane." She said.

Sansa watched them out of the corner of her eye from several seats away. Arya's conversation was so easy with him. It flowed with mutual interests and jest, despite the other's natural aversion to communication. Sansa longed to enjoy him so publicly herself. She was relieved when Tyrion joined her. His company was always diverting.

Eventually she bid them all goodnight, and returned to her room. Sometime later she heard a quiet knock and eagerly went to the door. Surprised to see Arya standing there when she opened it, her face clearly reflected it. Arya looked like a cat who had got the cream.

"You weren't expecting me, were you?" She purred as she entered the room.

Quickly gathering herself Sansa replied matter-of-factly, "How could I, you did not tell me you were coming?"

Arya's grin broadened, "That is true, but I feel sure you were expecting someone." Her eyes squinting accusatorily.

"No." Sansa replied, her tone measured and her face now expressionless.

Arya sighed. Sweetly she said, "Is there nothing you wish to tell me dear sister? You have no burden to share?"

Sansa looked perplexed. "None that I can think of." She replied.

"Oh." Said Arya, seemingly disappointed. "I had a notion, that you perhaps had a love."

Sansa's eyes shot open. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"You forget sister. I am trained to observe, to notice the smallest of things." Arya said, with mischief, "You needn't fear. I shall not share the knowledge."

A quiet knock interrupted them, but before Sansa could say a word Arya had sprung to the door, opening it. Sandor stepped into the room. Then it dawned on him, that the door had opened even though Sansa stood feet away from it. As it shut behind him, he turned to see Arya grinning broadly.

"I knew it!" She said. "You two, really should be more careful."

"Whatever do you mean?" He said gruffly, despite knowing she understood his purpose.

"You must still call her little bird." She said seriously. "You avoid one another too much. I am not the only observant person about." Before adding with a grin, "Staying late in the great hall on occasion would kill neither of you, although I am sure you'd both prefer to get to bed."

"Really Arya! You imagine things." Sansa said, her mouth stern.

Sandor looked at the two sisters. Resignedly he said, "Sansa, is there any point?"

Arya burst out laughing. "No, my friend there is not. I shall leave you both to your night time amusements." She gave a low bow, and made for the door.

Bolting it, he said "Will she tell your brother?"

"No." Sansa replied confidently. "She enjoys secrets."

"Then, I shall stay a while, but I am not sure how long we can continue. She's right, people notice things." He said solemnly.

"Let them notice." She said emphatically. "I am sure my bed is not the only one in the castle with a guest. We live in strange times. Rules of behaviour fall at our feet." She finished.

"I like your confidence Sansa, but you may regret it when we come out the other side of this war." Looking at her meaningfully, he added "You may regret attaching yourself to me on any level."

"Ugh." The sound escaped her in sudden frustration. "What must I do or say to have you believe that you are who I want, and all I will ever want. Must I go down on my knees?" She dropped to the ground before him, clutching the back of his legs and looking up at him.

"I vow to you here, now and for always that your birth, position in life and history bother me not." She said, without hesitation.

"Stand up little bird, I have no wish to see you crawl." He said, pulling her to her feet. "I know what you feel is love for me. For many years I have felt the same for you. I am simply aware of your position, and the influence of society." He said in a low tone.

Miffed, she replied "No more aware than I. The difference between us is that I do not care."

His face imploring her he said, "You are so very young still. I cannot put you in a position where your reputation is damaged."

She stood angry. "Ugh! I am not so young that I could not be sold-off for wicked gain twice-over. I refuse to be part of that game. I am my own person. My decisions are my own to make, and I will make them for myself." She turned away from him to gather her thoughts.

Turning back, her expression certain and authoritative, she said "You will stay with me tonight for the entire night, or you will not return."

Her ultimatum hung between them. Finally, he spoke. "Is there no negotiating with you? Is it not best for us both if I leave you now and we each think deeply upon it? I shall come again tomorrow night, and if you still feel that way I will give you my answer."

Tears were gathering in her eyes at the thought he may refuse her, but she turned her head to gaze into the fire so he would not see. "You may go, and bring me your answer tomorrow." She said evenly.

It pained him to leave her upset, but he did leave nonetheless.

She sunk to the ground as soon as the door shut. He had given her such happiness in the short time they had connected. More than she had felt in her lifetime. To comprehend a life without him near, without his touch, and worse to never touch him again, was more than she could imagine. It was overwhelming.

The night was long, and as she lay in bed her mind raced. She began to wonder if she had misinterpreted him. Had she read more from his looks and words than was there? It was undeniable that she was a vulnerable person. She wondered if he had preyed upon it and, having had what he wanted, willed this situation to escape her? Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she cried herself into a fitful sleep.

With the morning light, her strength arrived and her faith in his love returned. She put on her mask of authority and went about her day. Battle preparations were moving forward constantly. Dothraki warriors were yet to arrive at Winterfell, but they were expected within the next few days, the Unsullied shortly thereafter. Local men had formed a battalion and moved on to the Dreadfort to commence preparations. Weapon production had increased. Camps were being established outside the walls of the castle as space within was at a premium.

Her day had been long and stressful, and she had arrived somewhat late to the great hall to eat. She saw him there, his face giving no indication of what was to come. Her stomach dropped. Could she have already touched his lips for the final time? Would she never again feel the heat of his body next to hers? To see him and not know was torture. In no mood for company, she decided to gather a plate of food and retire to her room. Sending a serving boy ahead of her to her chambers to deliver her meal, she set about bidding goodnight to those around her.

As she walked past Sandor she felt his hand grab her wrist. Looking down at him, she did not hide her shadow of sadness, he released her immediately. As if her pain burned him.

"Is your mind set, little bird? Do you offer no other solution?" He lowly rumbled, his dark eyes trained upon hers.

"There is no change in my stance." She said unequivocally. "If you have no other questions of me, I shall retire. Good evening to you."

She could feel his gaze upon her back as she walked the length of the great hall. Moisture gathered in her eyes as she turned to look back at the table. He was gone, and she felt a physical pain in her chest. The bustle of the crowded room was white noise to her ears, no specific sound reaching her. She felt ill, but then became aware of a presence, a shadow beside her.

Her heart jumped when she realised it was him. "Shall we go?" He smiled, palm up in anticipation.

The breath drained from her in a rush, and a tear ran down her face. Quickly brushing it aside, she lay her hand in his. "Yes." She said, giving him a gentle smile as he squeezed her hand.

Together they walked to her chambers. Laughter spluttering from them as they went, as sagacious smiles were exchanged. They were still smiling broadly when they pushed open the door. Surprising Ellyn, her face reddened when she saw the Hound.

"Your meal is there, m'lady." She spluttered, pointing to a table.

"Thank you." Sansa said. "You may go now Ellyn. In the morning, have Clegane's belongings brought to my chambers. Henceforth, he will be residing with me."

The girl's eyes widened. "Yes, m'lady." She said, as she backed towards the door.

"You need not keep the knowledge to yourself, Ellyn." Sansa added.

The girl, looking perplexed, replied "I do not gossip about you, m'lady."

"Of course, you do not. I am not suggesting that you would. I am merely informing you that there is no call for discretion. All in the castle will soon know that Clegane is here with me, for me, and you needn't fret about revealing it."

The girl nodded and bid them goodnight.

As the door shut, Sandor said "Well, that's done then. How long do you think we have until your brother is banging on the door screaming about my fucking balls?"

"I don't know." She replied, "But, I have no intention of being brief with you." Her hands reaching to push his tunic up and over his head.

He rumbled a happy laugh as he bent down to kiss her.

Smiling at each other in an embrace, Sansa said "I have worried myself sick since you left me last night. I thought I would never touch you again." Shaking her head to rid herself of the emotion of the thought.

"I did contemplate refusing you." He said honestly. "In truth, I thought I should, but I could not bring myself to do it and in the end, I decided your honour was your own possession, for you to decide upon. I could maintain it to the world by keeping myself from you, or choose to honour you and your body with my own."

Smiling he said, "The second way seemed a more honest and desirable choice, and a fucking sight easier. You are stuck in my being, Sansa. I could not be without you if I tried."

A happy tear slid down her cheek, and as his thumb smoothed it away, she said "I am glad of it. I too cannot be without you. I have spent too many years in want of your love." Stroking the muscle of his forearm as she spoke.

"In want of my love, or do you mean wanton of my love?" He winked as he squeezed the cheek of her arse so strongly it lifted her briefly from the ground.

They kissed, a long and loving expression between them. She stopped to push his shirt off, her palms running smooth trails over his chest and arms.

"Are you not hungry?" He asked, gesturing towards her meal, concern in his voice.

"Only for you." She said, as she pulled his laces undone and took his cock into her hand.

She knelt and kissed his manhood. Deep audible breaths escaped him as she did so, encouraging her forward. Blood coursed into it when she allowed her tongue to trail the length of it, his knees suddenly went weak, and he stumbled a little backwards, bumping loudly into a chair.

Smiling up at him, enjoying the control she said with authority. "Get comfortable." So, he moved over to the bed and sat upon the edge. Excitement written over his usually sour face, she followed him there, every stride towards him emboldened her. She pushed him heavily in the chest and he sunk back on to the bed.

Looking down upon his hard cock thrilled her, it set a fire between her legs. She crouched down and took hold of his foot, removing his boot and stocking in a slow tease. Repeating the task, she watched his chest heave in anticipation. Then, grasping hold of the hems of his breeches, she gave a solid yank and disrobed him. Fully exposed, naked and hers – her own anticipation built.

Making herself comfortable beside him, she took his cock in her hand and put it in her mouth. The salty taste of his arousal tantalised her tastebuds, but the taste was more than just salt, there was a masculinity, a flavour she could not name but one she enjoyed, which warmed both her mouth and her mind. Her tongue firmly rolled around his knob, her lips curling under the edge of it.

She felt him sweep her hair aside, eager to afford himself a better view. They were both fully aroused and she opened her mouth to take more of him in. The sensation was powerful, enjoyable. Her hand found his balls, the caress of them increasing her fervour and his moans.

Had she been instructed to take a man in her mouth she would have been disgusted, but he wasn't just any man. He had filled her dreams and desires for years, and she wanted him completely. It was as though it were the most enticing dessert, warm and hard in her mouth. Her senses overloaded, her gentle sucks becoming stronger, more urgent, she slackened her jaw and slid her mouth deeply around him.

She found herself grabbing at her skirts, pulling them up so she could dip into her own moisture, her pleasure heightening as she did. Her fingers slick she took hold of the base of his solid erection. Encircling it, pressured, but not too much, she started a gentle rhythm as her head nodded to its own. Breathing in through her nose, she allowed contented sighs to take the breath from her.

Her eyes were shut to the world, enjoying every smell, taste, sound and feel. His groans became so intense it broke her out of herself. She glanced up at him; his cock still deeply in her mouth. Her heart was beating loudly as he pulled her head up to kiss him on the lips, her leg swinging across him to straddle his hips as she moved.

She could feel his hands reaching behind her, fumbling urgently at the laces of her dress. Her breasts were straining at the thick cloth. They broke their kiss. His efforts had allowed her more air, and he smiled as she wriggled out of her bodice, pushing her loose shift from her shoulders and lifting her arms free. Breasts bared, she leaned forward, willing one into his mouth. Never one to disappoint, she sighed contentedly as he suckled it strongly.

The tugs between her legs overwhelming her, she reached for her skirts again. Her clothes pooled loosely around her waist, she fought through the yards of fabric to reach his cock. Finding it brought a smile to her lips and she lifted her hips, and rubbed that blissful nob against her entrance before firmly pushing herself down upon it. Losing her wits momentarily, she paused to allow the sensation of him filling her the intensity it deserved.

She started to ride him, a hand reaching forward to his chest to support herself; fingertips searching for his nipple, to feel that firm nub between them as her palm enjoyed the rough feel of the hairs of his chest. His hands were guiding her now, thick fingers firmly grasping her hips. His fingertips were almost painful in their grip, but she didn't mind. The pressure added to her own urgency, her pleasure. She raised and lowered herself repeatedly with such thrill, as his hips jerked beneath her.

Her peak came upon her quickly, her back arching suddenly and her breath lost to her. The white-hot power pulsing within her, the instant stillness of movement it demanded contrasting so boldly with the previous fervour as she felt the twitches of his release. She loved that feeling, the knowledge of his seed spurting into her like a heartbeat, filling her soul and mind as it soothed her core.

She looked down upon him, his dark locks spread beneath his head, his muscled frame a perfect vision on her bed, glistening with the heat of their passion. She leaned forward to feel the hard muscle and hair of his chest rub against her soft smooth flesh as they both heaved in exhaustion. Her ear resting against him, enjoying the low throb of his heartbeat, whilst his hands felt huge upon her making her feel petite and feminine as they gently smoothed over her back. She could feel the love they emanated.

They had undeniable lust for each other, but in that moment, it was the love that seeped through. The knowledge that there would be no other man touch her skin as he did, filled her with a sense of calm security. It built a feeling of strength in her, self-belief that she was finally and completely where she should be.

"I love you, little bird." She heard him say as his fingers combed through her hair, exploring its length, testing its strength and twisting it into curls.

"I know." She replied. "I feel it in your touch, and see it in your eyes. I hope you feel my love too. It would pain me so to think that you didn't."

His voice was deep and quiet in its reply. "Oh, I feel it little bird. It is intoxicating. I want nothing but to be with you."

She registered the sincerity in his voice as he said, "The nights are not long enough for me to show you my love. I am endlessly grateful that we have finally come together."

His voice caught with emotion when he added, "It is more than I could have imagined. You are more than I deserve."

"I'm not." Was her simple reply.

Leaning up to look him in the eye so he could see the truth of her words, she said "We are what the other needs. A new life together, to wipe away the past."

"Aye. You could be right." He said, nodding.

Suddenly smiling broadly, he instructed "Now eat your meal lass! You'll be needing your strength if you are to take the love I intend to shower upon you."

Grabbing a cheek of her arse, he squeezed it harshly before slapping it and soothing the pain with a firm rub. She couldn't contain the smile on her face as she climbed off him and poured some water into a bowl. Taking a cloth, she wet it. Resting a foot on a stool she boldly washed her womanhood, watching him as she did.

"I'm not sure why I am bothering." She said. "You are sure to soil me again before morning."

"Is that a request or speculation?" He asked, grinning, his teeth shining white amongst his bushy beard.

"Both." She replied.

He laughed as she dried herself and moved to get her plate. She made herself comfortable on the bed, pouring them each a wine as she did.

Handing him a goblet smiling, she said "I am sure you are up to the task."

"Without doubt." He announced confidently as he pilfered some cheese from her plate.

Suddenly looking concerned when he said, "What will you tell your brother about us?"

"I'm not sure." She said. "There is not much to tell, beyond the truth of it. I love you and shall have you. I will not give you up."

Popping the cheese in his mouth and talking as he chewed, he replied "And if he insists you marry me?"

"Would you wish to marry me? You don't strike me as the marrying kind." She said, her eyes narrowing to read his face.

Swallowing, he said "Of course, any man would want to claim you, but I would not ask you." Shaking his head and twisting his lips as he searched for the right words to say.

"My status does not allow it, nor my understanding of you. No man should ever demand you marry. You have already trod that road regretfully. It is you who controls your destiny now." He said, smiling at her, his lips pressed together into a toothless grin.

Leaning over, she kissed him. "I am glad you see it that way. More than that, I am glad you understand me as you do. It is not that I would not marry you in the right circumstances, it is that at this moment I would marry no man." She paused, before quickly adding, "It is you I would choose, if I were able."

Staring down at the bed, she spoke at the mattress sadly "I am damaged. It may change, but for now marriage evokes a prison within me. It does not conjure in me what it meant to me as a child."

She felt his hand cup her face and she looked up to see his dark eyes sad and loving. "I will be your love always. Don't dwell in sorrow. We have each other, and it is no man's business but ours."

His brow furrowed as he underlined the point.

Grateful for his understanding she kissed him again. "Don't distract yourself, woman!" He smiled. "Eat up. I meant what I said earlier, I intend to pound my love upon you."

When she had curled up against him to sleep, she felt a sudden pang of worry. What would her brother say, or moreover do? He was not an entirely predictable man, beyond his sense of honour, and it was that honour she would no doubt have to battle against. She breathed deeply as a sense of panic crept in but, with a nose full of the musky scent of the man she rested upon, a calmness began to overtake her. There was no moment in the day that was real beyond the one she resided in, and Sandor was in that moment too. No worry was great enough to disturb that.