Sandor stood impassively, his dark grey eyes glittering defiantly as he looked over Ned. A smirk twitched the burned side of his mouth as he then cast his eyes toward Lady Catelyn, the harsh man's expression softening somewhat as he did so. "Lord Eddard, Lady Catelyn," he finally spoke, dipping his head slightly. "We've met before, I recall."
Sandor awkwardly offered her his hand, and Sansa nodded approvingly. She must have coached him on his manners, Catelyn thought, remembering the way she did the same with Ned when they were first married.
Standing before the fearsome Hound, she took the opportunity to look over her goodson carefully. True to her prediction, he was not wearing the armor or cloak of the Kingsguard; he was dressed in all black and wearing light armor. When he spoke, his voice rasped harshly, sounding like steel gliding along a whetstone.
Even without heavy armor, Sandor Clegane was by far one of the largest men she had ever seen, and one of the most intimidating as well. Finally Catelyn said, "Yes, how good of you to remember. You were a guest of King Robert at our family seat." She cast a nervous glance at Ned, who neither said a word nor moved to shake his hand.
"Guest, you say?" Sandor snorted derisively, and then made a harsh sound that might have been a laugh. "I had no say in the matter. I was Joff's dog; it was my duty to look after the boy."
"Please, you must not say such about yourself," Sansa softly whispered, turning to face her husband. "You were never his, and far too good to be in service to the Lannisters." She then squeezed his arm softly. "You belong to me now."
Both Ned and Catelyn were taken aback. Arya only rolled her eyes. "She's like this all the time, Mother. It was all I could do not to throw up the entire way here."
Brynden laughed and presented him a tankard of Dornish sour and bread dipped in salt, the tradition offering for guest rights. "Since you are family, this is mere formality, a gesture of goodwill."
Smiling, Sansa generously dipped the bread in the salt and delicately placed it in his mouth. When she pulled her fingers away, Sandor carefully licked the salt from each of them, all the while heatedly staring into her eyes.
Coloring deeply, Sansa laughed softly, and Sandor's mouth twitched into a small smile in return, the fierce man clearly enjoying her reaction. Seemingly remembering they were not alone, Sandor frowned suddenly, straightened up and surveyed the family thoughtfully as he ate, finishing by swallowing the entire tankard of wine.
"And for you, my dear," the Blackfish offered Sansa a glass of Arbor gold along with the bread and salt.
"Thank you, Uncle." Sansa drew a nervous breath as she ate and then took several sips of the sweet wine, carefully averting her eyes from her scandalized parents. Seeming to sense her discomfort, Sandor drew his large hand around her waist and pulled her back flush against his chest.
Catelyn stood agape, afraid to look at Ned, while Brynden chuckled heartily. "It seems the Hound has a new mistress, one who has tamed him most soundly."
"Aye, so I have," Sandor rasped low. Never taking his eyes from hers, he languidly wiped the salt crystals from Sansa's mouth and then licked them off his fingers with a devilish grin. "A proper lady she is, too."
Blushing deeply, Sansa shyly lowered her eyes. "Please, do forgive us, Uncle Brynden; we mean no disrespect."
"Seven hells, I'm going to be sick," Arya animatedly gagged, bringing a fit of laughter to both of her uncles. Rolling her eyes, she then eagerly downed the offering her uncle made to her while watching her family closely, alternating between staring at her parents and sister. "I'm starved. Will dinner be served soon?"
"Yes, lass," Edmure nodded. "As soon as your kingly brother arrives."
"Arya, ladies do not make such noises, neither do they ask when meals will be served or use the tongue of men," Catelyn scolded angrily. "It is only natural for Sansa to be thus; this is the way of all newlyweds, as you will see for yourself one day."
"No way, that's not me," Arya shook her head with a frown.
Shyly Sansa stepped forward with two cloth bound packages wrapped in the colors of House Tully for each of her uncles. "For you, Uncles, for all you have done for the family. I know it is customary for the husband to give them but I asked that Sandor allow me this."
"We do not stand on ceremony here, my dear," The Blackfish grinned as he unwrapped his bundle to reveal a fine dragonbone knife. "It is beautiful, dearest Sansa," Brynden held it up to the light for closer inspection. "Many thanks to the both of you, Cleganes."
"You are most welcome." Sansa beamed and squeezed Sandor's arm. Tersely, he grunted and then nodded.
Edmure opened his package with a boyish grin, delighted by the fine bow inside. "Magnificent, dear niece, and the wood is most unusual."
"It is from the Summer Isles, Uncle Edmure, made of the finest golden wood to be found."
The Blackfish gestured to the sitting area. "Do sit down everyone. Robb should be along shortly."
"If you will excuse me, I will see that your rooms are ready, Sansa, Sandor." Edmure bowed and turned to leave.
"Thank you."
Everyone stared at each other in silence until Sansa said, "Mother, Father, it is so good to see you! I cannot tell you how relieved I am to be with you again. Sandor managed to get me out of King's Landing just before the battle of Blackwater."
"Indeed he did," Ned looked over his goodson suspiciously, not even bothering to hide his open distaste for the man. "Most convenient, I would say, for Cleagane."
Sandor's eyes narrowed. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"I mean that a man in your position to make off with two highborn girls when he should be preparing to defend his king-it can hardly be called a stroke of luck that you got them. How long had you set your designs on my daughter before you finally made your move?"
"Ned!" Cateyln hissed under her breath.
"Fuck Joffrey," Sandor rasped menacingly. "King or no, the boy meant nothing to me. Truth is, your daughters were lucky I was the one who took them."
"They certainly are," Catelyn ignored his swearing and smiled tightly while nudging Ned's thigh under the table. "And we are most grateful."
"Plenty of men worse than me could have taken your daughters," Sandor snarled, leaning forward to stare Ned in the eye. "The capital is full of men who like to beat little girls, men who like to rape them. Saved Sansa from some of them."
"It is true, Father," Sansa took his hand. "Lord Tyrion begged Joffrey but he would not send help, and Sandor defied him to rescue me."
"Good gods," Catelyn whispered, making the sign of the Seven in front of her breast. "We are most indebted to you."
"Yes we are indeed. You were counting on our gratitude, weren't you?" When Sandor remained silent, Ned explained, "You felt free to take my oldest as your reward."
"I didn't do it for you, or any reward. I did it for the little bird." Scowling at Ned, he hissed, "You're just chuffed because some bloody knight didn't do the job for you-a dog did. Both you and your son left your precious daughters among the lions-you should be glad it was me and not one of those knights, believe that."
"We had no choice and you know it."
Glaring at Ned, Sandor snorted derisively and spat on the ground.
"Robb may yet annul your marriage," Ned furiously growled out while leaping to his feet. "Then we will see what you truly want! Coin, isn't that right, and plenty of it!"
"Bugger that, Sansa's mine," Sandor snarled, standing in such haste that he knocked his chair over. "I'll not give her up for any reason, you best believe!"
"Ned, stop this, please," Catelyn took hold of his arm and urged him to sit down.
Sansa's eyes filled with tears, leading Sandor to grudgingly follow suit. To Ned and Catelyn's surprise, he then turned to his wife, took out a handkerchief, and gently daubed her cheeks, after which he kissed her lightly and murmured a few words they could not hear.
Heaving an annoyed sigh, Ned warily surveyed the man. "Why did you marry her, Clegane? A man such as you gives no thought to the gods or my daughter's reputation. You could have gotten what you wanted by other means."
"I wouldn't put on such honorable airs, Stark; you allowed Robert to match her to his little shit of a son who would have taken your head had you stuck around." Sandor roared out a laugh, cold and empty, sending a shiver through Catelyn.
The Hound was furious, that much was clear, but Sandor would not even spare a glance at Ned; instead his hard gray eyes met hers as he spoke. "Your Sansa deserves a husband who truly wants her, not just her claim." Sandor gritted his teeth, the jaw muscles in his neck tensing with effort to restrain his emotions. "I wed her because I love her. I'll be good to her, Lady Stark, I swear it on every one of your fucking gods, old and new."
"And what of Sansa? I would hear her words," Ned insisted, turning to his daughter. "You are a good obedient girl; no doubt you wed him out of a sense of duty."
"Oh, no, Father, please, you must believe me," Sansa began, taking both her father and husband by the hand. "I married Sandor because I love him, not because I felt I owed him."
"Yeah, as hard as it is to believe, Sissy actually wanted to marry the ugly mutt." Arya shivered exaggeratedly. "Gods know why. Can we be done with this so we can eat now?"
"Arya that is enough," Catelyn firmly intoned with a sharp glare.
Scolded, Arya slunk back in her chair with a frown.
"Mother, Father, I am not ignorant of my duty to the family," Sansa nervously began. "I feared you and Robb would be disappointed. But I truly love Sandor and no matter what Robb decides, I will have no other." Carefully she smoothed down her skirts. "After all Sandor has done for Arya and I, I hope you will accept him as a true son."
"Of course we will, dearest!" Catelyn wrapped her arms around Sansa. "Ned, please, Sandor has dealt with our daughters in a most honorable way. The gods have answered my prayers by means of him! Can we not just enjoy the fact that our family is reunited and let this rest for the evening?"
The two leaved doors rumbled open, admitting Robb, Jeyne, and a small council of men. Rising from her seat, Sansa curtseyed low, while Sandor grudgingly laid his sword at the young king's feet.
"Sandor Clegane, Sansa," Robb curtly nodded. "How is it that the king's dog turns on his master to bring my sisters home?"
"With all due respect," Sandor spat out, "Someone had to do it. You and your father both left Sansa in the lion's den. The wolf girl in the company of Yoren and the men headed for the Wall-a band of criminals."
"So you found honor, is that the way of it? Robb challenged him, moving closer to Sandor. "You are the Hound, a Clegane through and through. Father said you killed the butcher's boy, Arya's friend; why should we believe you have changed?"
"Robb, that was Joffrey's fault," Arya interrupted. "The Hound did what the prince told him, but now he's part of our pack. Can we eat now?"
"No," Robb shouted angrily. Ned sighed deeply. "Lass, your brother is your king now and you must speak to him as such. Besides, there's more to consider than the matter of your friend; he has committed many wrongs in service to the king."
Smirking, Sandor shook his head. "You killed Sansa's wolf because the king told you to; how is it different?" Leaning forward, Sandor brought his face mere inches from Robb. "I'll tell you how: I may have been a butcher but I don't lie about what I am."
"Enough!" Ned bellowed, bringing both Sansa and Catelyn to their feet. "I'll not stand for this."
"Wait Father, Robb, just wait a moment, please! Sandor saved another one of my friends, and he brought him here. Maybe that may make you like him better," Arya hurriedly left the room. When she returned, she led by the hand a tall, muscular youth. Catelyn recalled Ned said he was one of Robert's bastard sons, a young blacksmith named Gendry. "Remember Gendry, Father?"
The young man nervously fidgeted with the edge of his tunic. "Lord Stark, my lady," he bowed awkwardly. "You do me a great honor. Do you remember talking to me in the forge?"
"Aye, I do indeed," Ned gestured for him to take a seat. "What brings you here, lad?"
"The Hound said it was too dangerous for me to stay in King's Landing and that you still have important business with me-both you and your son."
Ned and Robb exchanged glances.
"I've known all along that the boy is King Robert's true son and heir, not Joffrey," Sandor explained. Turning to Robb, he added, "You will need him in dealing with Stannis, my king."
Stunned, Robb sank into the chair beside his father. "Sansa," he said finally, "You and the women take your leave; we men need to have us a talk."
"You best not discuss this in front of Clegane," the Greatjon warned. "Not until we can be certain he can be trusted."
Sansa rose once more. "I assure you that no one can be trusted more than my husband, Lord Umber." Curtseying once more to Robb, she smiled. "There is a pressing matter that requires Sandor's attention, my king. With your permission, we will attend our rooms for the duration."
Robb waved his hand dismissively, "Go on, then. We will speak more at the evening meal."
