AN: THANK YOU for the kind reviews. It is elating to get such positive feed-back and definitely spurs me on. I am in the process of revisiting previous chapters, adding 500 words to Chapter 1-2, 710 words to Chapter 3. Just improving/expanding on what is there (it needed it), not changing the thread of story, so if you choose to refresh your memory and start from scratch you may notice some additions. I hope you continue to enjoy this work and look forward to any feedback.

CHAPTER 6

He woke to find her gently wiping his torso with a warm cloth and soap and, as his body relaxed further under her touch, his cock stood to attention. She lifted his arms above his head and, squeezing the cloth, allowed small rivulets of warm water to trickle over the hills of his muscles and down defined valleys before sweeping the droplets back up with the cloth. Her fingers dwelled in the dark bushes of hair under his arms, memorizing every essence of him. She seemed peaceful in her task. Her eyes almost glazed with remoteness as she thought of only each stroke of the cloth and the comfort it would bring to him.

"I'm not sure that I did not die in a blazing battle, and simply forgot about it." He said quietly. "You seem an angel at times, little bird."

"No angel." She said as her finger peacefully travelled the length of his cock outlining the thick ridges and veins as it throbbed hot beneath it.

He took a deep breath, his voice rasping with arousal. "Before you distract yourself, little bird, I have something I forgot to tell you last night." She cocked her head, interested to hear.

"We've had word that the Dothraki are to arrive at Winterfell today, and will be moving on towards the Dreadfort tomorrow. I have agreed to lead the way, and inspect the preparations made there to date. You can come with me if you like, you and I would be back in four days - five at the most? There is no danger, the army of the dead remain very far north." He said.

"I've spoken with Jon, and he agreed you could come. You are, after all, overseer of all preparations. Davos could look after things here in your absence." He said hopefully, before adding soberly "We understand if you'd rather not. If the ghosts of the past dissuade you." His face encompassed concern.

"It will be a cold ride." She observed.

"Yes, but we could ride together on one horse, I'll keep you warm and we'll take plenty of furs." He said, flicking his eyebrows up hinting.

"The ghosts of the Bolton's can reach me here or there, if I were to allow them access." She said, brushing aside his worry.

"With you by my side they feel vanquished. That horror seems as if it happened to another person." She said, screwing up her face as if she didn't understand how it could have ever existed.

"So, you'll come?" He asked hopefully.

"Yes, I'll come. I'd rather be where you are anyway." She said smiling at him and leaning down to suck his knob.

Her warm wet mouth took his breath away. "Oh, I'd rather you were with me too." He said unequivocally, his voice thin with lack of air.

He allowed her some time at her task before pulling her up to meet his mouth to kiss her. The taste of his cock and mouth combined on her tongue to give Sansa a heady concoction to enjoy. She savoured it for a while before the taste of his cock beckoned her again, and she pushed herself out of his hold, twisting her body right around so her head faced down the bed. She took him once more into her mouth. The firmness of him in her palate enthralled her, with its covering of fine silky skin filling her senses.

She was distracted with her own journey, barely feeling him spread her legs apart until his tongue ventured into her folds. She sighed and grunted in unison, both moist cavities warm and delighting in their joint fulfillment. It quite overwhelmed her, but she was determined not to break away from the impact, she wanted to ride this sensual express.

His skill with his tongue was equal to that of his cock and fingers. He always seemed able and willing to meet unknown needs. She took him deeper into her throat, her moans seeping out around its girth, as she felt convulsions of pleasure through her womanhood and up into her chest. His gentle sucks on her nub were bringing her towards a peak. She could feel a flood of moisture seeping into his beard, as her desire made itself known to him. She squeezed her eyes more firmly closed to allow her mind it's visual; picturing every movement, every colour, every touch, feeling every motion to its extreme.

She could hear him struggling for breath, his nose pressed firmly into her, and she reached for the soap to slicken her hand. When she then put her fingers around the base of his cock, so stiff and wanting, she felt him break his contact with her cunt and almost scream. He allowed himself some deep breaths before resuming his task, and she was delighted. He quickly brought her to a frenzy again and she came strongly, in waves of flooded ecstasy.

She fought the urge to stiffen and toss herself backwards, for fear of biting him.

His head pulled back gasping air, as he panicked and warned, "I'm cumming!" The words barely audible, with his sensory tension.

She could feel his attempts to wriggle free of her, but she held him, and he came. The hot liquid pulsing down her throat. His shaft twitching its joy.

"Gods, little bird! What have you done to me?" He panted.

She continued her languid sucking, finally licking the length of his shaft and kissing him tenderly. She turned herself around and kissed him deeply on the mouth. Their combined saltiness brewing a new and exotic mix. Her face was moist with her own juices when she finally pulled back from him, the sheen wiped slowly into her mouth with her own hand. Her fingertips lingering on her own lips as he watched dumbstruck and proud.

As their breathing returned to a respectable rate neither could stop from smiling.

"That was good." She announced simply.

She gathered up her wet cloth and dipped it into the bowl she had waiting on a table next to the bed. Wringing it out, her eyes glazed over again as she carried on her task. This time focussing on his legs and cock.

He folded his arms behind his head, and smiled as he watched her wash and dry him. She gathered fresh water and a clean cloth before returning to him to clean his face and beard. Caressing his scars as if they were a thing of the greatest beauty. He could say nothing as he looked deeply into her eyes, but their dark glow said it all.

When they woke again later that morning the day was starting to dawn.

He was reflective of the night before and pulled her into his embrace. "Little bird, you absolutely tear me to shreds. I have never felt about anyone as I do about you. I have never felt." He said lowly, almost as if he were speaking to himself. He rained soft kisses on her head and shoulders, and stroked her hair.

"We are a force to reckon with." She said. "I doubt I would feel such intimacy with another man."

"I would cut down any bastard who dares to make an attempt to please you so." He said, and she did not doubt him.

"I know you are your own woman, little bird, but you will always be mine." He said, as he continued his kisses. His beard brushing her shoulders and catching in her hair whilst his hands wandered lovingly over her stomach.

"I think you claimed me as your own when you granted me that name." She said. "I was but a child, but it wasn't long before it shifted weight from a name of annoyance, of accusation, to one of affection. No-one else dared to use it. It wove a thread between us; a linked chain of steel, not silk."

"If I'd known it's affect, I may never have used it. I would never have felt myself worthy of your affection." He said.

"It is just as well we don't know what our futures hold. It has been a difficult journey to here, but to have what I have found …" She was lost for words. "To have you as I do, I would never change a step."

They spent some time just enjoying the warmth of their skin, before he shook himself fully awake and started his day.

"Ellyn will be grateful you wear breeches this morning." She said as she watched him. "Or perhaps not?" She decided, as he pulled on his shirt and she felt a pang of regret that his flesh was now denied her.

"I'll have her pack my warm things, but only as much as I truly need, ready to depart tomorrow." She said, as she kissed him goodbye for the day.

He grunted, inhaling her scent deeply. "You make it so bloody hard to say goodbye, albeit for a day. I'm glad you're coming with me, even if a few hundred Dothraki soldiers are along with us for the ride."

The arrival of the Khalasar caused much excitement throughout the castle. Women were impressed not only by the tall, dark, strong warriors amongst them, but also the strength of their women. Sansa surmised it was fortunate they were moving on to the Dreadfort. She could see Westerosi men were unimpressed with their rivals and trouble was no doubt soon to brew.

Ellyn had gathered a suitable collection of items for the journey and Sansa quite looked forward to getting away from the castle, even though she had thought she would never leave its lands again. Her bond with Sandor had given her confidence that they would return safely.

They did not linger long in the great hall that night, keen to make the most of a warm fire and cosy bed, surprisingly for sleep, prior to their uncomfortable journey. They did make love, but not with the investment of energy or time they had dedicated to the previous night. She'd found she slept sounder, with a deeper sense of rest, than she ever had before Sandor had ventured into her bed. She wondered if they would manage to come together on the road, or if they would have to satisfy themselves with a discreet fondle.

The following morning Sandor rose before sunrise to saddle his horse and make sure of the soundness of its hooves. He missed Stranger, no other animal was its equal and he thought that one day, when the war was ended, that perhaps he would seek out a destrier and love it as he once had his black stallion, Stranger.

Sansa made her way down to the stables not long after him and watched by torchlight as he went through his ministrations. She carried with her a saddle bag of her belongings and a sack of food which the kitchen had put together for them. The kitchen maid even thought to give her wine, knowing the Hound's fondness for a drop. She was dressed warmly in a sensible travelling gown which laced at the front, with as many layers of wool and fur as she could manage. Her cloak was heavy and not fashionable, but it would serve a dual purpose as a blanket when they slept.

Sandor strapped a number of furs, which were rolled together, to the rump of the horse. When Sansa handed him her things, he said "Are you sure, little bird? Now that it is upon us, I'm thinking twice about having you on the road. I cannot promise to keep you comfortable."

The gravity of his tone did not deter her. "I'm sure that I'd rather be with you, than anywhere."

"Sobeit." He said, clearly unwilling to argue or perhaps in his heart not wanting her to change her mind. He lifted her into the saddle in a fluid sweeping motion as if she weighed nothing at all, and she landed lightly in the leather, pushing herself as far forward as she could manage.

He soon climbed up behind her, wrapping his cloak around them both and drawing her tight against him. He wore no armour, as he felt it unnecessary with hundreds of soldiers at his back and only a short two-day ride in country friendly to Winterfell. He did carry some pieces of plate to wear on the return journey, should he feel the need. His sword was strapped to his back, a short reach over his head, and he could unleash any fury required. He'd armed Sansa with a dagger, which she wore strapped to her forearm, his own leg and waist held others. The group set off down the road as first light was breaking.

The snow was not heavy on the ground, but it produced thick mud as the horses trampled through it. Sansa and Sandor benefited from heading the column, avoiding the mess the rear suffered.

They headed south briefly down the Kingsroad, before turning east across easy land intending to meet the White Knife River. A light wind blew around them, but Sansa was warm against the heat of Sandor and dual layer of cloaks. His leather clad hand would run circles around her waist and her own would massage his thighs. They'd nibble at food as they travelled, and he'd whisper sweetly in her ear.

They forded the river at a known low crossing-point, Sansa gathering up their cloaks, so they did not lap in the water and struggled to maintain her balance as they picked their way across the stony riverbed. She was confident Sandor would not let her fall as he'd pulled her hard against him. Progress was excellent until they turned north-east and entered the foothills of the Sheepshead hills. With so many in the Khalasar, it was harder to pick out routes that would allow them to travel within sight of each other. When they reached an area north-west of the Tower and Hornwood they made camp for the night.

There was no truly flat land large enough to accommodate them all, so they broke into smaller groups, finding as much shelter as they could in rock formations and amongst scrubby bush. Sansa was fascinated by the primal display of the Khalasar. They openly coupled by firelight, and shared women before turning in for the evening.

She found the activity heated her blood, and she fondled Sandor freely under the privacy of their cloaks and furs, as he supped on the wine. The smell of the sour wine filled her nostrils in the close air of their furry huddle. He laughed at her, when she'd whispered a need for completion, but he happily pulled her close to fuck her quietly on their sides from behind. It was just what she needed to relax her into an open-air sleep, and she'd woken him again for his services when she'd had to make water during the night.

"Always a pleasure, never a chore." He'd rumbled when she prodded him awake in need. Indeed, it had been a pleasure for her too.

They broke camp at day-break and were quickly on their way, the going slower as they climbed higher into the hills. The wind whipped their heads along the crest of the hills and she felt grateful when at midday they caught sight of the Dreadfort in the distance and knew they would make their way downhill and across the Weeping Water before late afternoon. The Khalasar happily made camp in the lands adjacent to the castle, and Sansa found herself a little disappointed that there was a chamber inside available for Sandor and her.

No sign of the Bolton's long residence remained. All flayed men sigils had been banned in the north. One would think they would need to be wary of pockets of resistance to new occupation, amongst the small folk of the area, but with most choosing to abandon the seat to seek shelter behind the stronger walls of Winterfell, they were assured of their safety.

The castle was not as large or well-appointed as Winterfell, but they were offered a delightful room. There were no servants to make life comfortable, the focus being on war preparations, but they'd brought with them all they needed. Washing by cloth and eating food from their saddlebags. They spread their own furs on the mattress and enjoyed the sensual delights they offered.

They spent the following day talking to those handling preparations, and visiting towers and bonfire sites. The Lonely Hills formed a natural barrier for the Dreadfort to the north-west, but they'd begun felling trees to the east and dragging them with horses to create bonfires where they wanted to shepherd the enemy. Last River may provide a sufficient wet eastern barrier to stop the enemy approaching either the Dreadfort or Winterfell from that direction, but with low points and prominent rocks there was no guarantee. So, they planned bonfires to shepherd them into the lower forests of the Karshold or along the eastern bank of Last River south and into the sea.

If Dany and Jon could push the bulk of the army into the forest to the west of Last Hearth there was hope that they could burn them to a crisp, as craggy-hills surrounded them, trapping them amongst the burning trees and funnelling them towards Long Lake. If they could force any who made it through the forest into the lake, all would be well, except those that made it on to the nearby Kingsroad would have an easy and direct route to Winterfell. A march along that road would be swift in comparison to the land the dead would travel to that point.

For their sanity they trusted not many would make it through, and Winterfell would be capable of dealing with those that did. Of course, there was no guarantee that the army was heading to Winterfell, it could make its way west to devastate other regions, however that direction was heavily forested which gave the dragons an advantage when setting them alight.

In the end, Sansa had been satisfied with the start that had been made, and was pleased with the scheduled battle plan. She and Sandor decided to head home to Winterfell in the morning, and made the most of their comfortable bed to sleep in comfort and warmth before they left.

The return journey was far from unpleasant. They travelled alone, and Sansa enjoyed being close to Sandor. He'd made the most of the opportunity to grope her as they picked their way through the hills. Removing a glove and sliding his hand into the neck of her dress, finding her warm breast to wrap his palm around.

"Better than any glove at heating me." He'd rasped, as his tough skin slid over her smooth breast, cupping its bulk happily and fingering her nipple.

She'd felt the blood rush to her womanhood and it pulsed in delight as it rubbed against the saddle, his hard cock clawing into her back as they went.

They'd again made camp in the foothills of Sheepshead hills, but Sandor was not so at ease as he had been the first time they stayed there, aware of their vulnerability as they travelled alone. She'd longed to couple under the stars by a warm fire, but he'd refused to light one in case it drew attention of any possible remaining Bolton supporters, who could be holed-up in the hills. She knew better than to prod a bear with a stick, and figured a Hound was no different. He promised to keep her warm without the aid of flame, so she made-do with play under the furs and said no more. In truth, it turned out to be no great loss and he'd been diligent in heating her fully.

Once they'd crossed back across White Knife River they'd made the decision to head more nor-west than south, as they needn't pick a route suitable for the hundreds they had originally set off with. As they neared Winterfell she raised an issue that had simmered within her for some time.

"Sandor." She said. "You needn't walk a pace behind me in the castle. You are my equal and I will not have you lower yourself."

"I am far from your equal, little bird." He replied. "No man would dream me such."

"But you are. We are a pair and I would have you walk alongside me." She said, twisting in the saddle, so he could see she was earnest about her desire.

"I can't, little bird. I have no bloody right to it by birth or deed." He said flatly.

"Stop." She said.

"What? Why?" He asked.

"Just stop. I want to talk to you properly." Her tone brooked no resistance.

He pulled on the reigns and clucked at the horse to stop. Swinging his great bulk down silently. He reached up to help her down, but she pushed his hands aside, swung her leg over the horse and slid down before jumping to the ground with a light thud. She straightened her clothes before turning to him, her head held high.

"Precisely what is your issue with standing beside me?" She asked, her blue eyes piercing him.

His mouth flapped open, independent of thought, before he said "It cannot be done, little bird. I am not bloody born to stand alongside you. Your family is established at the heart of the north, at the heart of the bloody country. Two generations back my family were servants, a kennel master with no household of our own, authority over no-one except hounds. I myself have spent a lifetime in servitude, soldiering as a second-son. I have nothing." He stood perplexed by her lack of understanding.

"It is simply not right for me to walk alongside you, unless in private." He offered as a final platitude.

"But, you can put your cock within me as you choose?" She said, annoyed.

"Well …" he smiled, "that is an entirely different matter, little bird." Sliding his hand between the drapes of her cloak and tracing a finger on her breast.

She pulled away. "You are my equal in bed, in my heart, in my head! I will have the world see you that way."

She thought for a moment and added, "I will have you see you that way."

"Why make such a fuss, little bird? It is a step, it means nothing." He said, his brow furrowed.

She looked at him with consternation, "If it is nothing, then why not take the step to be beside me?"

"It is the way of the world, little bird." His hands raised in frustration.

The horse fidgeted on the spot, feeling the tension between them.

"Not the way of my world." She said defiantly. "If you must step behind me in the presence of a king sobeit, but in front of any other man or woman I would have you at my side. I need you there Sandor." She implored.

She was reaching for his hands and he saw in her eyes that there would be no dissuading her.

"I can only try, little bird." He said, "But, I have had a lifetime of knowing my place, or making the right move when I must. It will not be an easy habit to break."

"You have broken the habit of keeping your eyes and your hands from a lady easily enough." She said smiling at him. "Let me help break you further."

She pulled him down into the dusting of snow and rolled on top of him. Kissing him tenderly, and sliding her body against his.

"Oh, Sansa." He groaned, "We are within sight of Winterfell, the bloody watchers in the towers will have seen the horse."

"Probably." She said nonplussed. "Their eyes would have to be mighty good to catch sight of your cock."

He pulled at his own laces in agreement, and allowed her to straddle him. "Be quick, my lady. This ground is bastard cold." He said, as she raised and lowered herself above him, his hands gripping her hips as he groaned in pleasure.

"It doesn't sound as if it bothers you terribly much." She said, her breath catching as she spoke.

He groaned again. "Fuck, it doesn't." He grunted.

"See, you are surprisingly capable of changing your mind." She moaned as she said it, his hot cock rubbing up inside her distracting her from her thoughts.

His hands reached up under her skirts and gripped her buttocks adding to her pleasure. His fingers pulling down her thick stockings to stroke the smooth skin of her thighs. When she had satisfied herself, and he'd thrust his seed into her, she made no effort to climb off him. She leaned forward and kissed him some more.

"Your seed is within me, hot and dripping in my core. We march together, combined." Her voice was both sultry and commanding.

"Do you truly understand?" She asked.

He looked perplexed. She offered further explanation, "I cannot bear to have you anywhere but in me or next to me. You must try."

"I'll try, my love, I'll truly try." He said, before kissing her, and she knew that he would.

"Now, don't slip off the saddle." He jested, as he pushed her up to standing, reaching under her skirts once again, to slide her stockings up her legs.