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CHAPTER 4

SANSA / SANDOR

Sansa spent most of the following day praying at the little Septry of the Isle. Although she didn't intend to pray for so long, she was trying to elude Brienne as much as she could. The woman suspected something and had asked too many questions when they woke that morning. She had told her that a tall monk had carried her to the cabin last night and Sansa was certain she had blushed when Brienne asked her who he was. Sansa didn't know what to answer and wasn't sure if it was safe to tell her about him yet. Therefore, she had had a quick breakfast and mumbled an excuse about praying to the Mother, just to be on her own.

Sansa had much to think about and time passed slowly enough at the Septry to try to put in order her mind. Why was he living there as a simple novice? Would he still help her, as he once promised? He wasn't the same man, of that she was sure, and knowing he was alive comforted her somehow, but there were still too many unanswered questions about him, making her mind spin. In spite of this she was certain that his presence elicited something nameless but strong inside of her when he was nearby.

Long hours had passed when Brienne finally sought her to have dinner at the Hall. She hadn't seen him during the day, but there he was again, helping with the meal as the previous night. Another silent dinner went by during which Brienne glanced at him from time to time; seeking answers to something she couldn't still understand.

When they were done, Sansa slipped out as soon as she could and walked to the stone bench once more. This time she was early and had to wait until Sandor Clegane came limping a bit to rest there. He simply sat next to her without saying a word.

"Your leg…" she dared to say.

He shrugged, "A fight at an inn. I was too drunk. It's fine now."

He didn't seem worried about it and she didn't know what else to say, so she let it be. The sun hid some minutes later as they kept a silence that Sansa found comfortable. It was better between them now, better than in Kings Landing, when he was drunk and talked to her so harshly, with his eyes always full of anger.

"I heard you married the Imp", he asked in his usual growling tone while staring at the trees in the distance.

Is he annoyed by it or is he just trying to mock me again? she wondered. She couldn't read his expression. Sansa thought about her wedding day and she realized it was as if it had happened to another person in another life. Tyrion married a scared girl, and now she was a woman trying to find her own path. She finally looked at him; his good side faced her.

"They forced me to, I had no choice", she explained. Clegane turned to her and she held his gaze. "But I didn't kneel at the ceremony. We didn't have a proper bedding and he didn't touch me on our wedding night, or after. I left him the day Joffrey died." She added, more to herself than to him.

A hint of surprise came up to his eyes, "Good for you, girl. Bugger that bloody dwarf!" he exclaimed, and he laughed of pleasure for the first time since she knew him; his laugh was like a bark; dark and low.

"It's late now, you better go to sleep. I'll take you". They rose and he put a heavy hand on her shoulder as they walked to her cabin, a faint reminder of times long past when the Hound escorted her at the Red Keep.

The next day he only caught glimpses of the girl in the distance, but that was for the best. He by no means wanted anybody noticing them during daylight. He worked harder than ever, chopping wood until his hands burned and he sweated like a pig, and then he spent some time caring for Stranger. Fortunately none of the monks had paid attention to him or tried to speak with him; even the Elder Brother had left him be.

Afternoon came and another silent dinner went by. He helped as usual with the preparations and then walked to his cabin to spend the remains of the day sitting on his bench. She was already there, so little in her thick cloak, sitting straight and graceful, as if waiting for him was the most natural thing in the world. He could see a glint of relief in her eyes when their eyes meet. Sandor sat next to her, sighted heavily and looked at the sky. It was pleasant to be there, quiet, feeling her close to him. Although there was something he still needed to know.

"How did you manage to escape the Red Keep?" he asked.

"Petyr Baelish and Ser Dontos helped me to leave Kings Landing the day Joffrey and Margaery were getting married"

"A brothel's owner and a drunken fool? Holy shit! How lowly knights had fallen if they were your only chance. Littlefinger..." he smacked his lips, "that bastard hasn't done anything selflessly in his whole fucking life. What did he want from you?"

Sansa shrugged "The same as everybody else: to marry me to someone of his convenience. He said he did it for me, but he only wanted to get Winterfell."

"And didn't you want to marry a young shinning knight? I though pretty little birds like you dream about having a nice wedding with a handsome boy as in the songs. Maybe he would have been an improvement from the Imp!" he mocked her.

The girl looked at him so upset that he regretted his words as soon as they got out of his mouth.

"Songs are all a lie and so are true knights. Nobody really cared about me. When they look at me, they don't see me but just a way to get Winterfell. But I'll never marry again, never. Winterfell is of the Starks, or it'll be for no one."

He stared deeply into her blue eyes, as if it was the first time, and maybe it really was. When did the child who dreamt about travelling to the South die, he wondered? When did the scared girl he met in Kings Landing, one who couldn't even look at him in the eye, disappear; reappearing as the woman who was before him now? Was it during the beatings of the Kingsguard? Mayhaps it happened when he left her alone that terrible night of the Battle of the Blackwater and she was married to the Imp; or mayhaps when Littlefinger tried to manipulate her. She was a woman grown now; a woman who had traveled to the Isle to pray for the Hound when she thought he was dead. A woman who looked at his face, the same as she'd look at any other.

She was watching the sunset now, thoughtful and calm and he lusted for her so desperately it took all his self-control and strength not to lay her down right there and fuck her until the end of time.

"Where are you going to go now?" he asked instead.

"I don't know yet… I've been thinking about it but… I have no family or home to return to now…"

He awkwardly patted her shoulder because there wasn't anything he could say and she slowly eased toward him until his arm rounded her shoulders, almost embracing her.

The girl was trembling; "I'm scared," she confessed in a whisper.

"We'll think of something, little bird", he whispered against the crown of her head.

A small grin spread on her lips and she pressed closer to him, making his muscles tighten at her contact. He had long forgotten the last time he had a woman - a whore, most likely - in his arms, but that moment was different from anything he had every experienced.

By the time the sun set, there was already plan rising his mind.