Author's Notes:Oops, I realised I made a small error of calculation – there is actually going to be 13 chapters in this, not 12… Just as well I didn't choose a career in mathematics, LOL! Or maybe I was just superstitious?
Summary: He walked straight, not glancing at either side of him. He heard some loud intakes of breaths, heard hushed whispers and from the edge of his vision, saw some hands pointed at him. Seems that not everyone has forgotten about the Hound. He felt a ridiculous pride rising within him, mingled with shame at knowing that the Hound people thought they saw was not him.
Sandor
Sleep evaded Sandor, although lack of it over the past few nights pressed heavily on him. In the darkest hour of the night he gave up his restless stirring and went for a walk in the nearby woods, trying to adjust to what was happening. He had journeyed across the world for something…but what he had found was beyond his wildest dreams. He closed his eyes and felt a sudden dread that everything was just a dream, from which he would soon wake, only to realise that he was alone in his chamber in the house of the silent men in Asshai.
He opened his eyes and saw the faint outlines of tall northern trees against the moonlit sky, heard the screeching of owls on their nightly hunts and smelled the wafting aroma of pine and moss in the air. He could still feel the traces of Sansa's soft kisses on his body, could feel his blood coursing hot through his veins and with that, the awakening of senses that had been dormant for so long. This is real. This is truly happening.
In the morning he waited patiently for Sansa's promised message, endless hours of standing on guard or waiting for a battle to commence allowing him to maintain his sanity despite his increasing anxiousness as the hours dragged on.
Finally his patience was rewarded in the form of a small note brought by a sullen-faced boy wearing the Stark sigil. 'Come at once' was all it said, but that was enough. He packed his things knowing that one way or another, he would leave now and not come back. He might stay in Winterfell – or mayhap not. Despite having trust in Sansa, he could not extend that same faith to her kin. If he was turned away, he would leave the North and go somewhere else. Whether Sansa and Eddor would follow him, he didn't know and didn't want to think about.
As Sandor approached Winterfell he wondered what he should do. Ask for Lady Sansa at the gate, or enter the yard and wait for her there? However, none of that was necessary when he saw Sansa and Eddor outside the gate. Sansa was dressed in her noble regalia, all flowing velvet and stiff cloak of brocade, her hair and throat adorned with large stones cut in rough shapes, the stones dug from northern quarries. Eddor was dressed sombrely in adult clothes and stood almost as tall as Sansa. It was clear he would grow up to be a big man.
Sandor was conscious of his travel-worn clothes and unkempt appearance, but there was nothing he could do about that. He stopped and dismounted his horse. He didn't know what he should say or how he should greet his son, whose presence made him pleased and nervous at the same time.
"Sandor!" Sansa's smile washed over him and she extended her arms. Conscious of the guards, Sandor took her hand and pressed a brief, courtly kiss on it. As he straightened, he saw Eddor watching him intently. He coughed.
"Eddor, I believe your mother has told you some things." He stopped, unsure of how to continue.
"She told me that you are my father." Eddor's eyes didn't flinch and Sandor had an uneasy feeling of being under his scrutiny. How he would be judged at the end of it, he couldn't guess.
"Aye, I am your father. I never knew it, though. I was away, but came back when I heard that your mother needed me. It took a long time and I am sorry about it, I truly am, boy." Sansa twined her fingers between his and squeezed them slightly, giving him courage to face his greatest challenge.
Eddor looked at Sandor. "Do you want me to call you father?"
Sandor flinched. "I couldn't ask you that. I wasn't here when you grew up, so I haven't earned that right. Call me by my name, Sandor or Clegane, whichever you prefer."
"Very well… Sandor." Eddor seemed to relax and turned to his mother, as if wanting to know whether he had passed some unspoken test. Sandor looked at her as well, wanting to know if he hadpassed.
Sansa smiled at both of them and tugged at Sandor's arm. "Come with me. We'll get servants to take your horse and deliver your belongings to my room. Then I will introduce you to my kin and to the good folk of Winterfell."
"Are you sure it is a good idea that he comes along?" Sandor muttered under his breath as they walked across the keep. "It could get ugly."
"He himself asked to come. He prefers to meet challenges head on rather than hide behind my skirts." Sansa glanced at Eddor, her face clearly showing the pride she felt. Sandor was impressed. Did that mean that Eddor accepted him? He would have to ask Sansa about that later – but the signs were good.
Hand in hand they walked towards the Great Hall. As they entered, they saw it was almost full; minor lords waiting for their petitions to be read to their liege lord, other nobles of the North, men-at-arms, soldiers, merchants, visitors and servants. Lord Robb was sitting at the high table on the dais with his maester and councillors. Ladies Jeyne and Catelyn were sitting at the side of the room sewing, but also paying attention to the events in the hall.
As they walked towards the dais, Eddor first, Sansa and Sandor behind him, still holding hands, people started to notice them. One after another they stopped what they were doing, turned their heads to gape at them and fell silent. Soon all was quiet, and Sandor could have heard a needle drop in that cavernous hall.
He walked straight, not glancing at either side of him. He heard some loud intakes of breaths, heard hushed whispers and from the edge of his vision, saw some hands pointed at him. Seems that not everyone has forgotten about the Hound. He felt a ridiculous pride rising within him, mingled with shame at knowing that the Hound people thought they saw was not him.
Eventually they reached the dais. Robb had raised his head from the scrolls, sensing the silence engulfing the hall and his expression had changed from mild curiosity to alarm. Before he could say anything, Sansa spoke.
"Robb, you remember Sandor Clegane? He is back and will be staying in Winterfell. With me." She gazed assuredly down at her brother. Robb swallowed and glanced at Sandor, clearly taken off-guard. Sandor saw he had changed from when he had last seen him; he was older and more mature, a lord and powerful warden of the North in truth.
"Sansa, this is…big news, and unexpected, for sure. I welcome Clegane to Winterfell, but let's discuss this later." Robb's face appeared pained, and his gaze flickered towards his mother.
Lady Catelyn drew a ragged breath and stared at them, her hand clutching her throat. Lady Jeyne eyed them with mild curiosity, continuing her sewing. Sandor stared resolutely ahead, determined to play the scene whichever way his little bird wanted.
"We shall. In the meantime I will organise his accommodation in my rooms." Sansa turned to her mother.
"Mother, you recall all the good Sandor Clegane has done to me and to our house? Could you please make sure he will be set a place next to me at the high table tonight?" Lady Catelyn nodded weakly as in slow motion, all colour drained from her face. Sansa turned then to the crowd on the floor. She spoke with commanding voice, staring at the upturned faces facing her.
"People of Winterfell, this is Sandor Clegane, the father of son Eddor and my companion from this day forward. He has been away these many years, but now he is back to stay. I trust he will be welcomed by you all."
Sandor saw astonished faces, some of them flinching at the sight of him, some staring at Sansa disbelievingly. Many eyes darted between him and Eddor and he gained irrational satisfaction from the notion that it was all that was needed to prove Sansa's words true. Sansa didn't seem to be perturbed by the glares and after saying her piece, strolled down the stairs confidently. As they were still holding hands, Sandor had no chance but to follow. Eddor stared at the crowd defiantly and likewise followed her mother.
As they walked towards the door, Sandor could hear the noise increasing as people started to talk, shocked by what they had just heard. He felt admiration for Sansa's daring and Eddor's defiance, but at the same he also felt slightly mischievous and would have grinned had he not wanted to give an impression of seriousness. There you have it!
They walked across the courtyard to the private quarters of the family and soon reached Sansa's chambers. Sandor glanced around him curiously, seeing a neat solar with practical wooden furniture, hangings depicting animals and the magical woods of the North covering the walls and a smaller door presumably leading to her bedchamber. Sansa gestured Eddor and Sandor to sit down, and Sandor wondered what would happen next. Had Eddor come to some kind of conclusion? Would he lash out at his absent father, the man who had caused his mother so much sorrow?
As if sensing his thoughts Sansa clasped his arm and rested her head against his shoulder. "Eddor, we both know that this must be hard for you. If you have any questions, about anything at all, do ask."
Eddor shifted on his seat. The mature youth from earlier had transformed into a young boy again, but to Sandor's satisfaction he didn't seem overly upset.
"Does this mean that I will be getting sisters and brothers of my own, like Brandon?" Brandon was Robb' eldest son, the same age as Eddor and his best friend in the whole world. Robb and Jeyne had been blessed with four boys and two daughters, and although they were like siblings to Eddor, they were still only cousins and sometimes he had expressed dismay at not having siblings of his own.
Sandor startled and glanced at Sansa, but she only smiled. "Mayhap, time will tell. Would you like that?"
"Yes I would! No sisters, but a little brother would be nice," Eddor exclaimed.
"We'll see what we can do," beamed Sansa at him. "In the meantime, if you want to join the others at training, you are free to go. Would you like us to come with you and tell them the news?"
Eddor shook his head. "No need. I can tell them – if they haven't already heard." He grinned, then stood up and walked towards the door. He opened it, then stopped with his hand on the handle and looked over to Sandor.
"Lor…Sandor, you fought in all the important sellsword companies across the sea, didn't you?" As Sandor agreed, he continued. "You were in the Kingsguard too?"
"Verily so. Can't say it was a high point of my career, but I did serve a king once, or a sort of."
"You also know how soldiers across the sea fight? I hear they have quite different ways from us."
"I know many and more sword skills and how to defeat your enemy. I can show you - and your cousins - a thing or two, if you wish. Things like how Dothraki screamers use their curved blades, 'arakhs', they are called, or how the Asshai fight with two short swords instead of one broadsword, and many other ways besides."
Eddor flashed him a quick smile, then closed the door behind him and was gone.
Sandor had so little experience with children that he wasn't sure if he could tell what Eddor truly felt from the way he had behaved. He turned questioningly to Sansa.
"How did he take it?"
Sansa smiled at him. "He has thought it over and it looks like he has made up his mind and accepted you. As a matter of fact, he might even be proud of you; a renowned warrior who has served in exotic places and in the Kingsguard. Not many of those in the North, I'm afraid. However, I thought things like that might impress a boy of that age"
"Hmmph," was all Sandor could say. Sansa stood up, moving towards Sandor's saddlebags which had been brought to her rooms. Before she had even touched them there was a knock on the door. Both thinking it was Eddor coming back, Sansa rushed to the door and pushed it open. Instead it was Lady Catelyn.
"Mother!" Sandor saw them staring at each other. He had never taken a liking to Lady Catelyn, especially after he had heard how she had tried to make Sansa give her babe away. Didn't take long for her to come here to give the little bird a piece of her mind. He wished he didn't have to sit there.
"Sansa. I wonder if I could have a word with you." Lady Catelyn stepped in, then stopped when she saw Sandor.
"Of course, Mother, please come in."
Sandor greeted her curtly, wondering if she would bother to hide her scorn towards him until he was out of earshot. He stood up, thinking it better that he made up some business elsewhere. Lady Catelyn stared at him and when she noticed that he intended to leave, she stopped him. "Please stay…Clegane. What I have to say involves you too."
Sandor winced, but settled back on the couch. Sansa sat down next to him, deliberately taking his hand in hers and gripping it tightly.
Lady Catelyn sat down opposite them, raising her eyes to meet Sansa's. Sandor was taken aback by how much like Sansa's they were up close; bright, blue and unflinching. Lady Catelyn was still a beautiful woman, and he found himself thinking that if the little bird took after her mother, she would be a beautiful woman for a long time still. Remembering how Lady Catelyn had seen her husband murdered and her family scattered to four winds, Sandor felt a touch of sympathy he had not expected.
"Sansa, I know you have been unhappy for a long time. I really thought that by marrying Lord Willas you would find at least some quiet satisfaction and contentment in your life. I believed that what you felt earlier, when you were still so young and vulnerable, was only a young girl's foolishness, falling under the influence of a stronger soul." Sansa opened her mouth and, apparently anticipating her objections, Lady Catelyn raised her hand to stop her.
"I have known for a while, however, that I have been wrong all these years. With him returning," she shot a sideway glance at Sandor, "I can see already that you are happier." Sansa tried again to speak, but Lady Catelyn still ignored it, continuing.
"All I came to say is that I understand what you are doing. It is against every fibre of my upbringing and what I have been raised to believe, but if it makes you happy, I will accept it. You will have my blessing, whether you need it or not." Her gaze softened perceptively as she watched Sansa's astonished expression. She turned to examine Sandor next.
"Clegane, you have to believe that all I have ever done has been in the best interest of my child – as I perceived it at the time. I realise now that my daughter's happiness depends on you. I hope that you will not betray her trust."
Sandor was stunned by the turn of events. He was aware of how much her mother meant to Sansa and had never wanted to jeopardise that.
"Thank you for your good words, Lady Catelyn. I may not be what your daughter deserves, but I have changed from times past. I will do my best to keep her happy, you can believe that."
"Well, that is all I had to say. I can add that Robb and Jeyne feel the same, as do all who love you, Sansa. Rest assured that Clegane will be welcomed tonight at the Great Hall and will have a seat at the high table with the family."
Lady Catelyn stood up, brushed her skirts with the same gesture Sandor had seen Sansa do so often, and turned to the door. Sansa rushed after her and hugged her tightly, whispering something into her ear. Her mother kissed her cheek, brushed back her hair and smiled a brilliant smile so much like Sansa's. Then she too was gone.