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CHAPTER 22

JON / SANSA

This is madness... Jon was thinking while they waited in his chambers.

Sansa and Clegane had come to visit him early in the morning to speak with him about their new plan. He still couldn't believe he was supporting it, though he did realize he would do anything within his power to help her?. Things were moving faster these days and their small plan was starting to work, so anything could happen after the meeting.

"Change that face Snow, and let your sister do the talking. She could convince a whore to become a silent sister if necessary," Clegane snarled at him.

"Just let me try, Jon. What do I have to lose?" she said with a smile, in an attempt to reassure him, but there were no words sweet enough to calm him in the moment.

Satin knocked at the door and entered. "Lord Commander, here they are, as you requested."

Tormund Giantsbane and four of his wildling companions filled the room with their characteristic noise of boot's footsteps and tapping arms. Tormund sat at the table with them while the rest stood by next to the wall.

"What's so important that you can't come tell me yourself, Crow?"

"In fact it isn't me, but my sister who wishes to speak with you."

"A proper lady requesting the presence of a wildling? Ha! I thought I'd never live to see such a thing! Do your knights not please her? She needs a real man to help her? HA-HA-HA!"

Jon frowned angrily and was about to say something when Sansa interrupted him.

"I'm sure you have plenty of qualities for pleasing a woman, but I'm sorry, I feel no need for them right now. Though I may have a different offer for you, one that may be to your liking."

Tormund fell silent; something Jon wouldn't have ever thought was possible.

"Really? Talk, girl."

"You may know I'm trying to recover our family's keep. I already have the support of some of our father's bannermen, but I fear we do not have enough men to carry out the plan we have devised."

"So? What do you want?"

"For you to join me. I've heard what the Night's Watch says about the Free People; about how they fight without fear, whoever their foe. I need some of that ferocity of yours in this quest."

Tormund chuckled, "Do you know what Free People means girl? It means we do not bend the knee as you do. It means we do not make oaths to anyone. Do you want us to wear your sigils and your house colors? To swear you loyalty? Well, you've spoken with the wrong men!" He snarled before leaving the table to go.

"No," Sansa replied quickly, "what I want is to recover my home. And once it's done, I'll need people to help rebuild the buildings, tend the fields, and defend it if they try to take Winterfell again. Most of my family's people are now dead. Tormund, I am offering you a piece of land that is yours. A safe place on this side of the Wall where your wives and children could live without fear when the night falls, but I can't give it to you until I recover it!"

Against all odds, Sansa's words had caught the man's attention and he sat again. His companions were talking between themselves, too.

"Are you aware of what you are saying? You're offering to share your land with wildings."

"I do. I need your strength, and you need a home as much as I do. I think it's a fair exchange."

"Tormund," Jon finally interceded, "I know why you attacked the Wall, and I've seen the same as you. An army of dead men with blue eyes, rising from their graves. Whole villages massacred, and the Free People scared because the Wall is the only thing that can stop them. This is a great opportunity, maybe the only one, to live in your south. You are aware there is not enough food to endure the winter at Castle Black; we are too many mouths to feed. Don't let your families starve, or worse."

"Nobody has asked before what your sister is demanding, Snow..."

"I am not just anybody. I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell. My family has ruled this Kingdom for thousands of years. And a Stark is always loyal to his word," she replied.

Tormund hesitated before gesturing his men to discuss the proposal in the corner.

While Sansa waited thoughtful and patiently for their answer, Clegane put a big hand on her shoulder to calm her, and she patted it slightly. Jon was relieved to notice that their relationship had eased since that fateful night when he had almost left. Theirs was an extraordinary and awkward connection; somehow, his presence reassured her, gave her strength and confidence without masking her real self, and the man seemed to have made her the only purpose of his stay at the Wall. I wish Sansa could be happy someday…

Tormund's strong voice interrupted his thoughts. "No bloody oaths, no sigils, no papers on a table. I'll talk to my people about your proposal. I myself will lead those who agree to fight by your side, but we won't swear anything to you. You may be Snow's sister, but a wolf on a piece of cloth means nothing to us," he told her, "we fulfill our end of the bargain and you do the same."

Sansa rose and smiled confidently, "I don't want you to swear me anything; it's been a long time since an oath meant anything to me. Help me, and you'll have a safe place for your families. That's the deal."

"A deal it is, then. So Snow, why don't you open your wine cellar for us to celebrate? We have a castle to attack and plotting makes me thirsty!" Tormund laughed.

Jon could barely believe it. Where had she learned to deal with men so well? Was there anything she couldn't achieve?

They headed to the kitchen amid Wildling laughter and strong voices. Three-Finger Hobb served them mugs of ale as Tormund and the other men chatted with Sansa and laughed aloud at their coarse jokes. It seemed their mood improved at the promise of being in action again, and the imminence of a fight. Sitting at a table with Sandor Clegane, Jon watched his sister.

"I still remember her daydreaming about handsome princes and fine dresses with her little friends at Winterfell. She even thought me to dance! I wonder when that child became a master of diplomacy."

"Her dreams were beaten out of her at the Red Keep. And I guess she had to sharpen her wits while living with Littlefinger," Sandor replied.

"Were you there?" Jon asked cautiously after a moment, "When they…"

Clegane nodded darkly.

"And you did nothing?"

"I stood there in my pretty white cloak and did nothing. Don't stare at me that way Snow; not that I'm proud of it," Sandor rasped.

"She doesn't blame you; in fact, I'd say she looks at you as if you were the only shield able to keep her safe from danger."

On the other side of the kitchen, Sansa drank small gulps of wine from her glass while retelling Tormund stories about Winterfell; about its weather, its lands, the livestock and game, and plants and trees that thrived in the cool climate.

"Hells…" Clegane muttered staring back at Sansa, "you think of the happy girl from your childhood memories; but all I can recall from King's Landing is a fearful child buried behind a cold mask of empty words and courtesy."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"A woman like her…" the man continued as if oblivious of him, "she could have enchanted any man in this bloody Realm until he followed her like a pup, but instead they beat her bloody. She has travelled half the Seven Kingdoms through dirty roads, sleeping on the muddy ground night after night, to reach this Gods forsaken frozen place. All to become the woman she was always meant to be. Did you know she once threw rocks at a Vale knight I was fighting?" he chuckled and took a long gulp from his mug, "And she bribed a man at Moat Caillin! Seven hells, I tell you this Snow, she is going to get whatever she wants. She could convince your northern lords to attack your castle with their bare hands if necessary, and they'd lick the ground she walks on afterwards."

Aye, I bet she'll do it. Though I reckon all that she really wants is a safe home and a family, Jon thought.

At that moment, they were approached by a smiling Sansa. "Did you know Tormund claims he had been married to a bear?" she told them in wonderment.

Both men laughed together, "If you believe half he says, he would be sitting now on the Giant's Throne with a dozen giantesses kissing his wild ass! Did he tell you about the size of his manhood? It's one of his favorite topics!" Sansa's eyes widened and she blushed embarrassed while they laughed again.

Suddenly, Pyp hurried into the kitchen looking for them.

"Lord Commander, a group of men on horseback has arrived at the main gate. The woman who leads them says they came from Castle Cerwyn. She wants to talk to Lady Sansa."

"She must be Jonelle!" Sansa replied excited, "She wrote me some days ago saying she would come. Thank you Pyp; tell her I'll meet her as soon as possible. Oh, what a busy day!" she told them once the boy was gone. "I want to thank you two, truly. For standing by my side through this madness. I couldn't do it without you." She took their hands and squeezed them slightly before rewarding them with one of her bright smiles before turning to leave. Jon grabbed Sandor by the arm as he rose to follow.

"Listen Clegane, there is something we have needed to discuss since this plan began," the Lord Commander said when Sansa was out of earshot. "If despite all her efforts something goes wrong, Boltons and Freys will put a price on her head. She won't be safe here anymore and I won't be able to protect her much longer."

"If you hear word that this plan has gone to shit, send her to Eastwatch and put her on the first ship to Essos," Clegane rasped. "Send someone with her; Grenn may serve. He isn't as green as the others and if you release him of his duties here he'll take good care of her."

Jon nodded in agreement. "Whatever happens, try to survive Clegane... I know she won't be leaving anywhere without you." Jon added before allowing him to follow his sister.

The following days passed amid a constant hustle that had long since prevailed at the Wall. The meeting between Sansa and the Lady of Castle Cerwyn was a success and Lady Cerwyn stayed on at Castle Black, where she requested the rest of her troops meet her as soon as possible. Ravens came and went from the Rockery, the fluent correspondence resulted in increasing numbers of Northerners at the gates of the keep. Within days the fields at the castle's main gate were besieged with dozens of men and soldiers of the leading houses in the North, the sky covered with bright sigils and banners flying over their tents. The Kingdom had not seen such a gathering since Robb Stark marched south several years ago, and it was a stunning and hopeful sight.

Sansa had never been so busy organizing and attending to all the men who came to greet her. She still remembered some of them from her childhood days at Winterfell, though they had become experienced grown men now. It was hard for her to hold back tears as their bannermen shared memories of her brother Robb, when they expressed their admiration of his bravery before the treason of the Red Wedding, or when the elders remembered her parents with fondness. She took strength from those memories, gave her courtly smiles and spoke with everyone who requested her presence. Sandor Clegane continued with his responsibilities at the Wall and sometimes accompanied her, though their moments of privacy were scarce as she was hardly ever alone now. Though her duties kept her usually awake until the wee hours of the night, not once did he visit her room to sit with her as he used to. Often times she saw light coming from Sandor's cell at the end of the corridor, but never dared to knock. Somehow he was constantly present; his grey eyes always following her, and it heartened her. She longed so much for a little moment of intimacy though—for cradling in the little space between his body and his arms, the place where she still felt like any other girl, oblivious to the upcoming battle and the lords and men who now so often looked to her. However there no longer seemed to be the time or space.

With the arrival of Lord Wyman Manderly and his men from White Harbor came also the time for the council to discuss the strategy of their quest. The meeting would either elevate Sansa to the true leader her men needed her to be, or cause them to dismiss her as the little girl she knew some of her bannermen still saw in her. She must show to them the same strength they had previously seen in her brother and father, the Stark resolution and courage. The council meeting was the time to persuade the northern lords that, behind those letters they had received, there was a true daughter of Ned Stark and that it was worth fighting not only for her, but also for the sake of the North.

Sansa's stomach ached while she left Castle Black escorted by Tormund, Sandor, and Ser Robert Penrose, the knight who would lead the men King Stannis had appointed for her service. She wished Jon was there, but she was aware his position as Lord Commander didn't allow him to attend political meetings. The lords and heirs of the main Houses waited for her at Lord Manderly's tent, the largest in the makeshift camp. She had dressed as best she could, and had combed her long hair into a northern-style braid. She was glad to have the old map firmly clenched in her fist like a charm; otherwise she wouldn't have known what to do with her hands. Sansa stopped before entering the tent and took a deep breath. She felt Sandor's heavy hand on her shoulder, squeezing it encouragingly. Their eyes met and she understood what he could not say aloud: I'm here with you, whatever happens. You can do this little bird. She nodded at him and entered into the tent with confident steps. Twelve men and women rose from their seats and bowed their heads.

"Good afternoon, my Lords. Thank you so much for attending this council. I'm so glad to see you all reunited here."

Sansa walked to the seat they had reserved for her and sat while her companions stood at her back. She noticed all eyes turned towards them and some murmurs began to rise.

"My Lady," one of the Karstark men dared to say, "could you explain to us what this means? Why are you bringing a wilding with you?"

"You know my brother allowed the free people to stay at the Wall after King Stannis' arrival. Tormund Giantsbane is one of their leaders. I promise I'll tell you what his part in our quest is going to be as soon as I have the chance."

"And the other?" another man asked, "I know him, he's the Hound! It's said he was the murderer of the Salt Pants!"

"I'm afraid that's a false statement, my Lord," Sansa answered, but the murmur continued growing among the people and some voices rose against him.

"He is a Lannister man, my Lady! He can't be here!" another one dared to say.

"Not anymore, my lords," Sansa raised her voice among them, sure and firm, "as my own brother, The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch will confirm to you, Sandor Clegane is loyal to my cause and my closest adviser. I'd be dead if it wasn't for him. I trust him with my life, the same I trust it to you now. Now, if it pleases you my Lords, we need to talk about more vital problems. We still have a battle to prepare for." Sansa rose and with firm hands spread her map over the table. With that the discussion was settled and no more word about the matter was spoken.

She pointed to Winterfell, as she had done days before with Jon and Sandor. "This, my Lords, is where our real enemies are, at my family home. I don't want any Frey ruling the North, nor any Bolton. They have betrayed you, just like my brother."

The same voices that barely moments before had been raised against the Hound were now calling out against Roose Bolton. They discussed the retaking Winterfell once and for all, debated who would go be in the vanguard, and many boasted about how they'd kill Bolton and his bastard son with their own hands. Sansa listened to all of them quietly. Among all the voices, she thought she heard Sandor's low chuckle at her back. When everybody had finished, she spoke again.

"My Lords, my father always said it was almost impossible to take Winterfell by force. And despite all the men you have gathered, we don't have enough time or resources to conduct a siege."

"So, what do you suggest we do then?" Lord Manderly asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"We have to make them leave the keep."

"How? They will never abandon it willingly!"

Sansa smiled confidently. It was the moment she had been anticipating for days; this was her chance.

"That, my Lords, is where Tormund Giantsbane comes into play. I guess Roose Bolton thinks he has the North under control and doesn't expect any House to move against him. And any northern House will, because it will be Tormund who will lead his men to attack Bolton's keep. As you may know, the Dreadfort is poorly guarded as the main of its forces are at Winterfell with his lord to secure it. Taking the keep shouldn't be a difficult task. We have to make sure news of the wildling's attack arrives to Lord Bolton as soon as possible. When this happens, an important part of his forces will leave for Dreadfort to defend it. When they are at an ample distance so they cannot withdraw to Winterfell Ser Robert Penrose, leading King's Stannis knights, will take them by surprise and ambush them on their way. My guess is only Bolton's men will leave, Frey's forces and the northerners who supported them will remain at Winterfell. If the odds are in our favor, there may be a few disputes and some disorder when Bolton departs. Maybe some of them begin to question his loyalties. Your forces should attack the castle while Winterfell's main gate is still open and use the discord to our advantage. My Lords, I think this is the only way that we have a chance. However, you know much more of war than I do. I won't do anything without your full support."

Harsh grown men had listened to her attentively and when she was done, Sansa's words echoed in the tent, such was the silence and respect of her bannermen. Nothing was said for a long moment and she feared no one would support her plan, thinking it was just the foolish idea of a girl playing to war, and not what it really was, the product of plenty of hours and sleepless nights studying the ground and calculating their chances with the help of Sandor.

"It really seems we are facing the daughter of Ned Stark," Wyman Manderly finally dared to speak. "Well my lady, we wouldn't come to mind with a better plan and I think I talk for all of us when I say you'll have our complete support in this quest. I think it is time to put things in their place in the North."

Sansa slowly exhaled, unaware that she had been holding her breath, and smiled, confident in his words.

"Thank you, my Lords, this means everything to me. Let me tell you I'd had the help of Sandor Clegane when I was planning the strategy." She wasn't certain if he'd like that move, but it was the only way she knew to make her bannermen understand. To make them notice how important and valuable he was to their cause. She peeked at him for a brief moment and noticed how his mouth twisted in irony and knew he was well aware of every one of her moves.

"Your plan is clear and it may work, but there is still a pending issue, I fear," Lord Manderly went on, "the wildlings have been our foes for centuries. Whereas they may tell you they are going to fight for you, they could kill and loot every village from the Wall to Winterfell while our men are far from home. They are not trustworthy people, my Lady."

"Well, you shouldn't trust us, southerner," Tormund teased them from her back, "What if during the journey I change my mind and go to your castle instead?"

The sound of several swords leaving its scabbards filled the air suddenly. Tormund himself raised his axe menacingly. "Stop you fool!" she heard Sandor growl at the man before grabbing his arm firmly.

"Please, down your swords! My Lords, there is no need for this!" Sansa tried to pacify the men, "I made a deal with them that is only mine to fulfill. And I believe they'll fulfill their part too."

"Still, I don't trust them," Manderly said.

"I will go with them," Sandor's thunderous voice rang through the air. "Some of your men can join me if you want, this way you can be assured that Tormund's men do not act on their own and accomplish their part of the plan. No more than five men or we will raise suspicions when we attack, and Roose Bolton won't fall into the trap."

Sansa held her breath while the calm seemed to settle back into the tent. What worried her now were the implications of Sandor's words. He is going with the wildings. He is going...

"I'll join you Clegane," one of Jonelle's men said. "I want to be there when that damned Dreadfort falls. If half of what is said to happen inside its dungeons is true, that place should not remain standing one more moon."

"Count me too! I've long wished to avenge Lady Hornwood. It's time to kill some Boltons!" another one claimed.

And so it was settled that men from Blackwood, Tallhart, Ryswell, Cerwyn and Norrey would finally join Sandor Clegane and Tormund on the attack to Dreadfort.

Other topics were discussed after that; the timing of their departure in two days' time, the communications between them, the fact that, against her will, she should stay behind at the Wall, the supplies they should carry… Sansa smiled and nodded courteously at her bannermen's words, but her mind was elsewhere. He is going far from me...

It was late when Sansa was finally able to retire to her room. The council lasted longer than she had expected and after it finished the main Lords and Ladies requested her presence for dinner. There was a high sense of belonging in the council tent; a sense of camaraderie and gratitude to her for finally having united Lord Stark's bannermen again. It was all she had wished for long, but somehow her joy was incomplete and a she began to settle into a dark mood. Back at Castle Black, she visited Jon's chambers to inform him about what had been decided during the evening and how the preparations for the recovery of Winterfell had finally begun.

The Wall was quiet. Not a soul seemed to be awake at that hour of the night when she finally climbed, exhausted, up the stairs of Hardin's Tower. While walking to her room, she looked once more at Sandor's door, but this time she didn't feel the longing she did other nights. She was disappointed and upset. Upset at him for making such an important decision without consulting her, and because he was going away. She hurried to his room and knocked heavily on the door until her knuckles ached. She heard a hustle of furs and heavy strides before the door burst open and a furious Sandor wearing a simple loose tunic filled the door's frame.

"How dare you!?" Sansa snapped before he could even open his mouth so say anything. She came into the room in a hurry without even waiting to be invited. She felt her breath coming in a rage; and a sudden urge to unleash on him everything that had been consuming her during the evening.

"How dare you? Tell me!" she pushed forward.

"What the hell!" he finally managed to snarl looking at her, incredulous and annoyed at the same time.

"That stupid idea of you going with Tormund to the Dreadfort. We never talked about it. Never!" she replied angrily.

Sandor snorted finally understanding, "No, we did not, but it was necessary that someone kept an eye on them. There was no other way the Lords would accept the wildings traveling on their own through their lands."

Trying somehow to gain some control, Sansa's hands had curled into little fists resting on both sides of her body. Sandor was looking quietly at her, arms crossed against his heavy chest and an amused grin planted on his lips.

"Besides, do you think Tormund's men even know what a keep is? Seven hells, they think a pile of stones is a castle and that they are going to attack something as ruined as Castle Black! We cannot allow them to attempt to take the Dreadfort on their own without a proper strategy!"

Sansa's breath had quieted a little but she had begun to pace from side to side of the room while his eyes remained heavily fixed on her.

"Fine," she finally admitted, "but you should have consulted me first. Now there is also a watch of five northerners going with them. They can do that same task, so there is no need for you to go with them anymore."

Sandor shrugged, "Why not? It was my idea and what was needed for your pretty plan to go on."

"Because I-I command it!" she couldn't help but raise her voice, stopping nervously in front of him.

He chucked, "And go back on my word to your bannermen? The Hound, the closest of Lady Stark's advisers, a craven once more! Ha! I bet they'll love that!"

"No! It's not like that! I just—I just…" she stammered nervously.

Sandor walked towards her and took her by the shoulders, making her finally stop pacing and forcing Sansa to look at him.

"I have to do it," he told her lowering his voice this time, "I can't stay hidden under your skirts while men who barely know you are going to die for your cause."

"You mean to leave me!" she protested, the anger giving finally way to the pain and anguish that was threatening to strangle her, "You said you'll never leave me again, that you will always be by side whatever happens!"

"Aye and I still mean every word. But I also told you that I'll help you as much as I can. I don't have a House or men to join you, but I still have my sword to fight. And if that makes a difference to help you to get your bloody castle back, I'll use it."

Sansa struggled to free herself from his grasp, still refusing to believe what was really happening, but Sandor grabbed her tighter and pulled her to him, engulfing her between his firm arms and his chest. Here is where I belong; she realized buried in his body, this is the only safe place. She felt how hot tears had begun to form in her eyes, moistening his tunic. That's not fair! Why are the gods taking him, too?

"I don't want you to leave… I don't want to be alone again…" she managed to whimper against his chest.

Sandor brushed her back gently and took his lips to her ear, his warm breath and low voice sending tingles through her body, "Don't worry, little bird, I don't have any intention of dying any time soon, nor to stay away from that pretty face of yours for long."

Sansa clutched at his tunic, holding on him the same way she had held her precious map hours before. She raised her face slowly to meet his gaze, and when their eyes met, she felt again the familiar feeling of being consumed under his stare, and knew with certainty he was also suffering. Realizing that would be last time in many weeks they could share a moment alone and impulsively following the urgent demand of her own body, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him eagerly. He grunted, of surprise or lust she didn't know, but returned the kiss with a ferocity that matched hers and made her legs wobble. Sansa tasted the characteristic flavors of salt water, snow, and sweat on his mouth and enjoyed the familiarity it provided. After what seemed an eternity, Sandor firmly clutched her buttocks and lifted her until her legs were wrapped around his waist. With two firm steps, he carried her easily to a nearby table placing her carefully there.

"You cannot imagine how much I've missed you…" he growled with lust as he began to undo the ribbons of her gown with certain movement of his fingers.

Perched on the table with her legs still straddling his waist, Sansa pulled on his tunic, urging him to take it off before throwing it to the floor. Her breathing was stirred when she traced the contour of his powerful shoulders and arms lightly with her fingertips. She realized how much she wanted him; his protective presence, his steely voice, his strong body, even his coarse manners- characteristics that shaped the only man who had ever wanted her simply for who she was; and she desired him much more for it. When Sandor finally managed to let her breasts free, he grinned lustfully at their sight, and cupped them into his hands, circling his thumbs over her already hard nipples. A soft sigh of pleasure escaped her lips at his touch, and her own hands pulled him closer until she felt his manhood pressing hard against her smallclothes. His tongue slid languidly along her neck before he nipped lightly on her earlobe, making her shiver from head to toe. She fiercely explored his hair, his shoulders, his arms… wanting to learn by heart every inch of his body, made of stone and blood, so she could evoke it clearly for the nights to come.

I need you…

As if hearing her thoughts, he left her neck and removed one of his hands from her breast. Starting at her foot, his hand moved slowly, gently tracing from her ankle to her thigh, his fingers sending waves of pleasure and anticipation all over her body. He lifted the hem of her dress to her waist and removed her smallclothes with a firm yank. Sandor was already naked, which allowed her to drink in the sight of him once more as he took his manhood in one hand and rubbed it slowly. Placing his other hand on her hip, he pulled her to him and slid himself inside her moist folds. Sansa's legs wrapped firmly around his waist and her arms surrounded his neck. He was holding her tight, one hand at her lower back and the other between her shoulder blades, thrusting into her unhurriedly. "I like it…" she dared to whisper panting in his ear and rousing a guttural groan and a grin from his part. As usual when they were together, the rest of the world blurred; there were no more Lords, no wildings, no Night's Watch, no one really, save for the two of them living and loving each other in the small space their bodies created, a place where no harm could come to her.

Unexpectedly, he grabbed again her buttocks and lifted her while remaining inside of her. Sansa held on to him while Sandor took her carefully to the bed and sat on it with her straddling him. Leaning back and resting his elbows over the cot, he stared at her lustfully.

"Let me enjoy how you ride me."

Sansa blushed; embarrassed for not knowing what she was supposed to do in that moment. Sandor noticed and began to move his pelvis, guiding her movements with his hands over her hips until they found their rhythm. Slowly, he lay on the bed; one arm under his head, the other resting on her thigh, staring at her as if she was some kind of old goddess he worshiped. Sansa rested her palms on his heavy torso and kept moving, rolling her hips up and down, up and down his length. She felt aroused, filled, complete, and exultant at the same time. She felt a rush of power as she rode him and felt how the fearsome warrior yielded to her, defenseless under a simple woman.

"Hells! Don't ever stop," he groaned with thick voice.

She grinned with confidence and moved faster, riding him harder, fueled by the moans her movements elicited from him. His hand moved along her inner thigh until he reached her folds, his heart and index fingers rubbing her soft spot and sending waves of pleasure through her body. Sandor delighted in the wetness he found, his lips twisting into a mischievous smile. When she was close to climax, he withdrew his fingers and sat up, holding her strong against him without missing a stroke. His hands were iron against the skin of her waist and back while he thrust hard into her.

Tomorrow I'll have marks from him…

The familiar feeling crept inside her, slow but strong; her legs began to shake as he thrust faster until she felt the explosion that swept her insides, leaving nothing but him and the imperative need to melt under his skin. Panting against their necks, both cried out the other's name as a promise or a wish, like a spell that allowed them to stay sane despite the horrors they had endured. They collapsed on the bed; she on top of him, exhausted and quenched of each other; their bodies entangled in a mess of clothes, hair, sweat, arms and legs, and remained that way until their breathing returned to its normal rhythm and Sansa slid to his side. They lay on the cot, one in front of the other, arms entangled, their faces so close they could only breathe the air the other one exhaled, looking into each other's eyes without speaking for a long time.

"I already miss you…" Sansa finally whispered breaking the silence, "come back to me, Sandor. Please, come back safe," she pleaded, brushing a strand of hair from his unburned cheek.

She could feel the roughness of his fingertips scratching her skin as his hand drew the line of her face from her forehead to her chin. "I will," he promised, "I'll be by your side when you enter Winterfell again. I'll carry you there in my arms if necessary."

She stared at him, feeling she was going to ignite under the intensity of those gray eyes and the feelings that boiled inside of her. "I'll wait for you, I promise. I won't allow anyone arrange another marriage for me as long as I… I can be with you…"

"Bloody hells Sansa. Bloody buggering hells..." he muttered embracing her while she snuggled again in the safe place that provided his body. "I haven't done a single good thing in my life and yet here you are…" he kissed her temple softly and brushed her hair clumsily. "I look at you and can't believe yet that you're real… what have I done to deserve you girl?"

She grinned against his chest and kissed it softly, "You saved me. You cared for me when nobody did and kept me safe. You are helping me return home and you've never asked for anything… I wonder what I have done to deserve you."

Sandor chuckled, "To deserve me? Nothing good, for sure!" They smiled, easing a moment both of them knew could not last.

"Sandor, I-" she tried to say, but the words didn't flow from her mouth.

"Uh?"

"Nothing…" I think…her lips soundlessly formed the words against his chest I - - y o u…. Sansa hugged him tight and inhaled his scent deeply, praying they still had enough time together to be able to tell him.

"I'm going to miss you too little bird. Every day that I'm away from you will be hell on earth, believe me," Sandor admitted with his characteristic rasping voice, "I want you. I want to be with you, I want everything with you."

It was late, but they lingered in the moment, neither daring to move.

With the men immersed in a fury of planning and preparation, the next day passed faster than Sansa would have liked. Finally, on the morning of the second day since the council, everything was ready for their departure. She knew she should be happy, it was what she had worked for so hard for, but she could only feel a deep void inside of her. Many men would die on this quest. Sandor could be one of them, and the thought made her uneasy.

She and Jon attended the main gate to bid farewell to the warrior's party. The Stark's bannermen and King Stannis' men left first; they were the bigger party so their march would be slower and it was important they were already there when news of the attack over the Deadfort arrived at Winterfell. The wildings, Sandor Clegane and the five northerners that went with them were ready to leave several hours later. With promise of new land and new lives south of the Wall, Tormund had gathered impressive numbers of men and women of the free people who were looking forward to gaining their reward.

"Next time we meet, both of us will have a new home, m'lady!" the man had said as farewell.

The formidable and imposing profile of Sandor Clegane towered above all of them. He led Stranger to Sansa and dismounted. She brushed Stranger's snout, remembering how the beast had taken her safely to the Wall, before finally meeting Sandor's gaze. Concealed from prying eyes by the animal's shape, she took his hand and squeezed it until her fingers hurt.

"Stay alive," she told him fighting to control the tears that were already forming in her eyes, "it's a command."

"Stay safe little bird. I'll come back for you," He took her hand to his lips and gave it a discreet kiss before taking Stranger's bridle and mounting him. Giving a short nod to The Lord Commander, he broke into a gallop, following the rest of the men that left Castle Black.

Sansa stayed at the gate looking at the King's Road long after they disappeared on the horizon. She didn't know how long had passed when Jon wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Come on Sansa, it's getting too cold here."

She looked at him expressionless; silent tears streaming down her checks. "Do you think they'll get it Jon?"

"Don't worry, he'll do it. I think it takes more than a castle and a bunch of Boltons and Freys to keep Clegane from you."

She smiled sadly as they walked to Castle Black; a heavy pain in her heart that she knew would not dissolve easily.