Auhor's Notes: I planned to have only one more chapter of this, but alas once again words run away from me and it will turn to two… So here the first part of the long-awaited reunion – how will it go down?


Sandor & Arya

"Better now?"

"Hells yeah, I am starting to feel blood returning into my hands. Bloody scroundles deliberately crossed them tighter than septas legs. Aaaah!"

"Pump them a bit, it gets better sooner. I should know."

"I never tied you this hard and don't even pretend I did."

"You did!"

"Nevermind that. So what do you think? This is going well so far, isn't it? Just as I said, House Stark welcoming me with open arms."

"I don't understand why they can't believe us already. We are here, you are here, we told them you did the right thing. What is so hard in it?"

"Highborns have a way of seeing things differently. Besides, should that little shit Joffrey come here now and tell that he regrets all his appalling decisions and he is going to be a good king from now, would you believe him - just like that?"

"I would run my dagger through him!"

"That's what your family wants to do with me right now. Can't blame them, really."

"Hmmmphhh! I hope they don't continue this for long. I don't want to go back on the road any more than I'm sure Sansa does, but if they don't…"

"Hush, shut your mouth. If anyone is going back on the road that'll be me. You will stay with your kin. That was the whole idea. Did I risk my neck and my livelihood just for the fun of having you two wandering aimlessly in Westeros? Hells no! It was for you and your sister I did it all."

"You say 'you and your sister' – did you really do it for me too? Not only for Sansa?"

"Bloody hells, of course I did. That's what men do for their comrades in arms. For their friends."

"-"

"What, what's with the face? Didn't you like it? Fine, I'll keep my hands off your ladyship from now on, then."

"No… I did like it… Jon used to muss my hair like that…"

"Bloody hells, don't start bawling on me now! They'll think I hurt you and ran me through with a dagger for real! Quit it, you hear!"

*snif* "I am not crying!"

"Well, good."


Sansa

Sansa was much more nervous than she had ever envisaged. The sight of the walls of Riverrun, the goal that had pushed them forward for so many weeks through trials and tribulations, should have made her heart jump of joy and brought on a feeling of immense satisfaction. Safe! Finally! And yet…

She glanced quickly at her companions. Sandor had dismounted and stared stony-faced the sandstone walls rising from the water-filled moat. She knew her husband well enough by now to know that he was assessing the situation in his military mind; where the watch near the gate was the strongest, where the weakest, what could be their back-up plan should things go awry. Arya's expression was harder to read: she too was looking at their destination, but as if she couldn't quite believe that it truly was there within their reach.

Sansa thought of the two people residing inside those walls; her lady mother and Robb. Her heart ached to see them again and finally be able to share her grief of her father openly with those who had loved him the most – but as they had many times concluded on the road, things were not that simple anymore. She was not the same obedient daughter, Arya was not the same carefree tomboy, Robb was not the son still guided by the firm hand of his lord father, and their mother was not the dutiful spouse to the Warden of the North but a widow. And then there was Sandor.

"What now?" she sighed, pushing her conflicted feelings aside.

"We go to the guards and ask for an audience with one of the household knights or somebody else in the inner circle of your family. I doubt they'd grant every fucking wanderer an audience with the King in the North should they ask it," was Sandor's curt reply as he had already started to move towards the gatehouse, pulling Stranger from the reins behind him.

"Maybe we could ask Uncle Edmure or Great-uncle Brynden," Arya suggested. "Sansa and I have never met them but at least they'd be family."

And so they walked towards the gate; a tall man, a peasant girl and a young boy, just few more souls in the hustle and bustle of a busy keep going on about its day.


The plan might have worked had one of the guards not spent time in King's Landing some years past and seen the Hound in King Robert's entourage. His loud warning to his fellow guardsmen saw all of them revealing their weapons and stopping Sandor at sword's point. Sansa and Arya were pushed aside and would likely have been forgotten when the men started to drag Sandor towards the keep, having sent one man ahead to get reinforcements, had Sandor not raged at them.

"You fucking sons of whores, are you so dim-witted that you think I came here with just these two to plan an attack on your precious boy-king? That Lannisters would have sent their best man here just to walk to the gate and ask to be let in? I am NOT here on the lion's business – but I do have information your King will be glad to hear, believe that! And he will want to see my companions as well, be sure of it!"

Sansa shouted at the men to get their attention, Arya screamed at them – it was an overall mayhem, but to Sansa's relief Sandor did not resist – too much. He would have had a good chance against the soldiers but he seemed to resign to his fate for the time being, only punching one of the too eager youngsters in the gut and cursing indiscriminately while being led away. He was relieved of his sword and the daggers on his belt, but the men paid no heed to Sansa and Arya, allowing them to trail the noisy procession into the keep. Their horses were led aside, Stranger rearing and trashing with his hooves until Sandor called him out, made some soothing noises that only the man and the beast understood, after which the horse allowed himself to be walked away. Sansa breathed a silent sigh of relief; if it would not have started well for Sandor to assault her kin's soldiers, it would have been almost equally bad for his horse to do the same.

Sansa had no illusions about the impression their little group gave; all travel-stained and dishevelled, both out of necessity to blend in with the smallfolk, but later also simply because they had been on the road so long. After her initial shock she concluded that waiting for their interrogators would offer them a better chance than screaming at their captors. The soldiers looked too scared and nervous about guarding the dangerous Hound, of whom many had heard only horror stories the kind mothers told their children to make them behave, to be receptive to reasonable argument.

The room they were ushered into was a simple unadorned hall not far from the entrance to the keep. Sansa had hardly time to register the hangings on the wall depicting Tully sigil, the sturdy wooden furniture and the outlook from the windows when they heard brisk steps and loud talk from the outside. The door opened and a tall, lean man walked in. He was grey of hair but had bright blue eyes, and it was clear that he was someone with authority from the way he stopped, took in their small troupe and without further ado addressed Sandor.

"So it is the Hound indeed! Strangers balls, what brazen bravado, the Lannister dog walking into Riverrun just like that! How dare you!" His eyes narrowed and his tone became more threatening. "Why were you sent? They said you have some information the King might like to hear – but I very much doubt that. Well, what is it, Hound?"

This must be Great-uncle Brynden! The man they call Blackfish, flashed through Sansa's mind. She was about to step towards him before being stopped by Sandor's voice.

"Then you'll be twice the fool, Blackfish. My news will interest the boy king greatly, I'd wager. And his mother."

The man frowned, clearly not used to being addressed so forwardly.

"You better speak more courteously about the King in the North. And leave Lady Catelyn out of this, she doesn't need to see your vile face or hear Lannister lies from your lips. Now, tell me why you are here. I am not inclined to wait for too long before throwing you into the dungeons, to rot next to the Kingslayer."

"No!" somebody shouted. It took a moment for Sansa to realise that it had been her. Everyone in the room turned towards her; the guards, Blackfish, Sandor, even Arya.

"Great-uncle, it is me, Sansa. And this is Arya! We have escaped from King's Landing and Sandor Clegane helped us to do it."

It was a testament to the old soldier's self-control that he only stared at her, then at Arya, then back at Sansa. Finally he glanced at Sandor, who stood tall with his hands tied behind his back between two of the strongest guards. None of the machinations of his mind showed in his demeanour when he barked fast commands to the men.

"Out. Everybody out. Is he well bound?" After affirming that indeed the Hound was well trussed and bound, the guards left the room, some peeking curiously behind their shoulders. Only after the last man had left the room and closed the heavy door, did Blackfish talk again.

"You, Lady Sansa Stark, sister of the King? My niece?" His eyes travelled from Sansa's head to toe before turning to Arya. "And this…boy is Lady Arya, you say?"

"Yes, Ser Brynden, it is us. We apologise for our appearance, I realise it is not very ladylike, but we have been on the road for months and we had to disguise ourselves…"

"It is me, Arya. And you better get my mother and brother here at this minute, they'll tell you soon enough," Arya chimed, still clearly upset of the way they had been treated.

Sandor said nothing but swayed slightly on his feet, following the other man with sharp eyes.

"And the Hound? Were you sent here for the exchange? That was a stupid plan, even Lannisters should know that. Now that we have the girls – if they indeed are who they say they are – there is nothing that would compel us to give you the Kingslayer. Gods, I'd had thought Cersei is smarter than that." The old man sneered.

"No exchange. The girls wanted to get back to their family and here we are." Sandor's laconic answer seemed to surprise Blackfish, who looked at him thoughtfully.

"Hmmm, there is more into this than what is obvious. You will tell us all we need to know. For now I will send for the King…"

"And mother!" Arya interjected.

"…and Lady Catelyn, and we'll see what is what." Blackfish left the room shouting commands to men behind the door to guard them well in his absence, and then he was gone.

Sansa understood that her great-uncle had to be careful and not believe any traveller with a wild tale, especially if associated with such well known villain as the Hound, but his doubts still stung a bit. Yet the promise of soon coming face to face with her mother…and Robb…

Nervously she tried to clean her face with her sleeve for the hundredth time and ran her fingers through her hair. Would they recognise her? She had been a lady before, now she looked like a mess. Arya didn't seem concerned about such things, still huffing indignantly to Sandor.

Sansa walked to Sandor and took his hand, still bound, and squeezed it.

"I am so sorry, Sandor. This is not how I wished it to go, but we will sort this out shortly. Just please do not lose your temper."

He looked at her and his face softened. "If not for the promises I made for you these louts would be picking their bloody guts from the floor, that's true. But if I held on for this long I might just control myself for a little while longer."

Sansa stood on her toes and planted a quick kiss on his bearded cheek. One of the guards snickered but Sandor's glare silenced him soon enough.

After a while they heard again people approaching from the hallway.

"…is so urgent anyway? At least you could have told me before dragging me out of the council meeting. Mother, do you know about this?"

"No Robb, I am as much in the dark as you. But if my uncle tells it is important, I am sure it is."

The two people entering the room looked like her mother and brother – but older, more haggard. Her mother's shiny auburn hair looked limp and lifeless and lines on her face had deepened but none of that mattered when both Sansa and Arya rushed forward towards her.

"MOTHER!"


So many shouted exclamations, jumbled words, sobs and cries followed that it was impossible to separate who said what and to whom. Lady Catelyn held on to Sansa as if she would never want to let her go, pushing her away for a moment to have a look at her face only to sob and clutch her against her bosom once again. Arya shared their mother's embrace, all the bravado of the young girl forced to grow up too fast forgotten, leaving behind only a child desperate for her mother's embrace.

Eventually they were released only to jump next into Robb's arms, their brother who had shuffled awkwardly around the reunion scene with questions pouring out of his mouth. He had changed too; his arms were strong and curled around Sansa's as their father's had once done – he was a man and not a boy they had left behind at Winterfell. A king.

Blackfish and Sandor watched them from further away, Catelyn finally beckoning to her uncle with tear-streaked face.

"Uncle, uncle, where did you found them? My darling daughters, sound and well, finally! Oh!"

To Blackfish's credit he didn't even try to embellish his role in that miraculous recovery.

"Found them in this room just like you, little Cat. The guards alerted me that the most unexpected person had been apprehended at the gates and I came to see him." He pointed at Sandor and at once Catelyn and Robb looked in his direction, took a moment to recognise him and as one, shouted out:

"The Hound!"

"Clegane!"

Robb was faster. "What in the blazing lightning are you doing here? What do the Lannisters want? If you have ever so much as touched the hair on my sisters' head I swear…"

Finally it was Sansa's turn. She stepped in front of Sandor whose eyes were locked with Robb's, the corner of his mouth twitching. Sansa was grateful of her earlier insistence about how important it was for him to maintain his calm, knowing only that held him back from barking instead of only snarling.

"Sandor saved us, we wouldn't be here without him. We owe him our lives, and you owe that to him as well."

Robb looked unsure and Lady Catelyn's mouth dropped open.

"What do you mean, sweetling? He is at the Lannister service, has been his whole life their most loyal man. Everybody knows it," she said soothingly.

"He was their man, but not anymore. He has left them and is his own man now – or a man of House Stark if you have him." Sansa was nervous in front of the disbelief and hostility projected towards her lord husband, the man she loved more than anything. I have to be strong. He has protected me all this time, it is my turn to do it for him.

"Dear Sansa, even if it really is true, he may only say so. I don't know what he wants to achieve, but men like him are not to be trusted." It was Robb's turn. He too looked at Sansa as if she had just lost her wits.

"He can be trusted! He is my friend, and when Cersei wanted us arrested and killed, he helped me to escape the Red Keep," shouted Arya in turn. She had even less patience than Sansa and she had clearly had enough of doubting. "He would have helped Sansa too but she was already taken to the Queen and that horrible Joffrey! We had to wait for a long time before the opportunity came to release her. And then he helped us travel through the country and protected us and hunted for us and found a way for us to get here without being captured by the Lannister men."

Lady Catelyn, Robb and Blackfish exchanged glances, not yet completely convinced but seemingly wavering from their earlier stance. Good. Sansa took a deep breath. She had contemplated whether it would be better to keep the truth about their union for a bit longer while first establishing Sandor's good intentions, but had finally concluded that it would be better to come out with all of it at once. The thought of Sandor being thrown into dungeons or just into more modest guestrooms while she was sleeping in a comfortable chamber of her own was too much to bear.

"Mother, Robb, Great-uncle Brynden, there is something more."

Again everyone turned to look at her. Sansa swallowed.

"He… he is also my lord husband. We are wed in the eyes of the Seven and in the eyes of man. I am his lady wife."

If before her family had been stunned, the expression on their face now was beyond comical – and yet nobody laughed. Her mother let out a sound between a sob and a wail, then closed the distance between them in two strides, clutching Sansa's hands in hers.

"My poor child! Did they do this for you, how could they! Oh my darling innocent child!"

"Is that true, Clegane? Was it some horrible jape at the expense of House Stark – is there no depths of depravation the Lannisters will not sink into?" Robb spoke through clenched teeth, every word cold and full of contempt.

"No! I mean, yes, it is true that we are married, but it was not the Lannister's doing. This is for real, I chose him." Sansa squeezed her mother's hands and peered into her eyes. It was important that she would make her understand. "I love him!"

Throughout this whole exchange Sandor hadn't said anything, but Sansa sensed how his whole body was tight as a bow string. Now he raised his voice.

"Is this a way you greet your new goodson, Lady Catelyn? And your goodbrother, Robb Stark? It is true. I forced her not. You may choose not to believe me, that is not hair off my arse, but you'd do well to listen to your own flesh and blood."

Robb extended to his full height and it was only now that Sansa saw what else had changed: he was a commander and a king in truth. He hissed at Sandor: "It is King Robb to you, Clegane! And what do I believe or not is my own concern. I will get into the bottom of this, you can be sure of it."

He was touched by the arm by his mother who murmured in soft voice, "Robb, I am sure the girls are tired and weary. Maybe we should all take a break and allow them a moment of rest. Prepare and show their rooms for them, maybe a bath, clean clothes, food – we can return to this later."

Only then Sansa realised how anxious she had been – the tension she had been holding left her and she felt thoroughly inflated. Suddenly the thought of a warm bath, clean clothes and food seemed the only thing worthwhile thinking. Just one more push…

"I'd love to have a bath! And wear clean clothes for a change, and have some food. We have not exactly starved but I can't remember the last time I had warm bread or butter or roasted vegetables!" Her mother smiled at her, somewhat shaky smile but so full of love it radiated and warmed Sansa even in that loaded moment. She extended her arms to her and Arya, but Sansa pulled away.

"As for my room – it will be my and my lord husband's room. Sandor will stay with me."

Visibly displeased her mother frowned and was about to say something before Sansa cut her off.

"If Sandor will not share my room, we will take it as a sign that neither of us is welcomed here. In that case we will take the road again. We have done that for weeks and we can do it again until we find a more welcoming place." Of course the thought of leaving now was almost impossible – but so was the thought of leaving Sandor. If Sansa had learned anything during her time in the South it had been that confident people often got what they wanted – so she hid her uncertainty and raised her head high, staring straight at her mother, then at Robb.

"And I want his hands to be unbound. He will not do anything to anyone, you have my word. And his." She glanced at Sandor who nodded his confirmation.

"I can do it." Arya had already moved behind Sandor and started to work out the knots. Robb and Lady Catelyn looked on disapprovingly but didn't stop her.

"Sweetling, do come here and let's discuss about the arrangements," Lady Catelyn waved Sansa to approach and out of habit Sansa crossed the room to her. They were out of the earshot of Sandor and Arya and once next to her, Lady Catelyn spoke in low voice, only Sansa, Robb and Blackfish hearing her.

"Darling Sansa, I don't understand any of this, but you clearly want to portray a role of a loyal wife in his hearing. Yet you don't have to do it – we can protect you. If we assign you separate rooms it is not your doing and he knows you did your best."

Sansa started to protest but was interrupted by Robb. "He may have some hold over you but do not worry, we can and we will severe it." Blackfish nodded sympathetically along.

It irked Sansa how little her family though of her own faculties but she reminded herself of the same advice she had given to Sandor. Calm yourself.

"Mother, Robb, great-uncle, he doesn't have any other hold over me but my love for him, and his for me. I am serious and speak the truth of it – I want to be with him of my own free will. So please assign us one room as you would do any other married couple, that is all I ask."

From the doubting look on her mother's face Sansa knew she was still not convinced, but she sighed and gave in, turning around and leaving the room in search of servants to give the necessary commands.

Robb and Blackfish stayed behind but had nothing further to say. Following their gaze Sansa turned to see Arya having already freed Sandor's hands, which he was now flexing in front of him. The two of them were deep in conversation and even to an ignorant observer it was clear that it was jovial and friendly.

It is not only one sister and the Hound you have to worry about, flashed mischievously through Sansa's mind when she watched Robb's stricken face.


The bath felt every bit as luxurious as she had imagined and Sansa lingered in it for a long, long time. The chamber appointed to her and Sandor was a modest one, but after time spent in the wilderness it felt more sumptuous that any room in the Red Keep had ever been. A soft bed, a real window, a fireplace where the maids scurrying frantically around carrying linen and bedding and setting the room in order, had lighted a roaring fire. And the big copper bath filled with warm water scented with herbs…

Sansa sighed, knowing that it was time for her to get up, but still reluctant to do so.

"If you want to me to continue to stink in the company, by all means don't get up," grumbled Sandor behind her. "Not that it likely matters whether I bathe or not – in your family's eyes I will stink just the same."

"It is not true! They are just surprised – you have to admit it is a lot to take in. They will see the truth of things, we just have to be patient and explain it to them so that they understand."

"Hmmmph!"

Hearing Sandor drop his boots on the floor with a heavy thump Sansa unenthusiastically stirred and started to climb up. However, the tub had high-raised edges and its bottom was slippery. "Please help me out, Sandor," she pleaded lifting her hand. He took it and leaning on him Sansa stood up. Rather than helping her out though, her husband's eyes roved over her in a way that made Sansa blush.

"You are a sight for sore eyes, girl. Might as well, to be worth all this trouble."

Was it his eyes that burned in that familiar way that Sansa only recently had started to recognise for what it really was; desire, lust and longing – or the fact that this was the first time he had held her thus, standing completely naked in front of him? Sansa's blush deepened. Since their wedding night they had lain together every single night – more than once on some nights, after Sansa had recovered from her initial soreness.

Every evening Sandor had built her a shelter – nothing as laborious as the first one, but each offering protection from the elements and some privacy. Even to her own surprise Sansa had been much less sympathetic to Arya's plight than her sister had expected after pouring out her frustration of half the night spent rolled in a blanket. Serves you right for sneaking on us, Sansa had replied and extracted a promise that no such drastic measures were needed again.

The shelters, and the continuing caution they took on the last leg of their journey saw it taking over five days to reach their destination – but Sansa didn't mind it the least as long she shared those nights with Sandor.

And what nights they were… It didn't take long for her to realise that men were not the only ones with 'needs'. On their third night, when Sandor had by his admission 'let go off enough steam' to pay more attention to her reactions, Sansa had experienced something totally unexpected; an explosion inside her own flesh, a sensation of an unbearable tension and bliss concentrated on her womanhood. From there it was coaxed out by Sandor's fingers, twirling and rubbing her flesh following her wordless instructions, heeding her whines, deep intakes of breaths and squeezes of her hand on his arm. The way her release had left her completely sated and satisfied had been yet new lesson for her, and she was still astounded that her body was capable of such a thing without her ever having been aware of it.

Once again she had been reminded that it was all new to Sandor as well, after seeing his eyes narrow and regard her suspiciously. That he had been the source of such pleasure to her had defied his belief and Sansa wasn't sure if she was relieved or saddened by the fact that the magnificent man by her side thought so poorly of his skills as a lover as to doubt her sincerity even for the briefest moment.

Yes, she had loved those nights and learned to love her husband even more. Yet they had only regarded each other naked in the confinements of a low shelter, tangled in blankets and partially covered.

Sansa's first reaction was to shy away but soon the unmistakable feeling of wanting him compelled her to act differently. Still holding Sandor's hand and standing in the bath she squared her shoulders and straightened herself to stand as tall as she could. Meeting his eyes she took his hand and led it to rest on her left breast.

Not letting go his gaze she murmured under her breath, "Show me yourself, husband, and bathe quickly. I have a need of you."

Kneading the swell of her breast Sandor's breath quickened and he licked his lips. He threw a look at the big bed, laden with clean clothes the maids had carried in. "Here? Are you sure, little bird? What if we are summoned?"

Sansa smiled. She felt wicked but also very grown up. I am not a little girl any more. I am a woman wedded and bedded, I am a wife of the most magnificent warrior in Westeros.

"Here. As soon as you are clean enough not to soil the bedding my family kindly provides for us." Pushing Sandor aside she stepped out of the bath, deliberately running her hand along Sandor's side and down his thigh.

"Hells, they will be soiled soon enough," he grunted and started to tear off his clothes on the spot.