I am sorry for the delay in posting this! Caution...fluff ahead!
"Have you gold or silver?" His figure completely obscured in the shadows of the wall as she retired to her room later that evening, Sandor's hushed question caught Sansa by surprise. The guards would have bolted towards their lady's frightened scream had Sandor not already predicted her reaction and silenced it with his hand.
"Are you out of your mind?" she hissed when he lowered his hand. "The guards could have heard me!"
"But they didn't because I knew you were going to scream, so I shut you up," he chided, wagging his finger in front of her nose. "Besides, I've just proved that they are worthless. I could've cut your throat wide open and vanished before they found you. No one would suspect a septon."
"You're too kind to bring that to my attention," she bantered, continuing her path towards her room. Sandor shadowed her until he stepped ahead, pushed her door open and allowed her passage. "A true gentleman hides under those burns," she admonished, knowing it would raise his ire. He shoved the door closed a bit harder than necessary and dropped the door bar into place. "Do you mean to help me undress," she dared when he turned around.
"Oh, shut up," he barked, staying rooted to the spot he held in front of the door.
Sansa offered up a rare, genuine smile. "It's alright, I won't embarrass you. I will change later."
"Seven hells, woman," he cursed. "You couldn't embarrass me if you tried."
Her eyes narrowed in defiance. "Really?" She found herself actually debating whether or not she would disrobe in front of the man who had stolen a kiss after forcing a song before deciding against it. Truly, she only would do it for sport and he was not one to meddle with; it wasn't his reaction that she mistrusted, but her own. Hadn't she imagined a different ending to that night many times over?
"Yours would be another naked body and I've seen plenty in life and death and I don't need to see yours," he said irritated, limping towards the already roaring fire. A cold wind had howled in during the dinner and Sansa was sure it would snow. She joined Sandor in front of the blaze, lapsing into silence, rough septon robes and black mourning dress inches from each other. A few minutes later, Sansa realized that either one or the both of them had leaned in, causing his hand to brush her arm.
Sandor cleared his throat, causing Sansa to flinch. "Do you have a plan to get yourself to Winterfell, jumpy Little Bird?"
Sansa continued to look into the fire, contemplating her answer. Following Lord Baelish's demise, Sansa had searched his room for any hidden coin or gems that she could steal. Working quickly, she found several small pouches with small deposits stowed under the bed, mattress, desk, chair and dresser. She knew that somewhere, there was a much larger amount, including her aunt Lysa's jewelry, but she could not risk taking it if Lothor Brune knew its whereabouts. Content with her pillage, she had hidden it in her belongings. "I was only able to secure a few coins and some jewelry," she admitted. "I had hoped that they found my good father's coins or Aunt Lysa's jewels, but they were somehow overlooked. A minor detail that I forgot, learning where his stash was, before he went to sleep...forever…thank the gods and my help to speed it along." Fury stirred in her heart and bile in her throat when Littlefinger's name was ever brought up. Unbidden, her entire body broke into a hard shiver and then quickly stopped.
Sandor stepped back and brought the chair, motioning for her to sit in front of the fire. "You'll need more than a few coins and jewels to get you home." He leaned against the wall opposite of Sansa, as if to physically distance himself from her. "The brothers are leaving in the morning, after they break their fast."
Carefully, Sansa kept her tone even and asked if he would leave with them.
"I haven't decided." He paused, avoiding her eyes. "Why do you want to go home, Sansa? There's nothing there. It's burned and sacked," he asked, exasperated.
"You said my name," she breathed.
His face twisted, confused. "What?"
"You said my name," she repeated in a whisper. "You've never said my name before." She stood but did not approach the now defensive man who scowled at her. "In all of my time at Kings Landing, even after you found me leaving the godswood or pushed your dagger in my throat, you never once called me by my name." Sansa stopped and offered a small smile. "You should be careful, Hound, your Clegane is showing."
He swore at her, eyes unexpectedly bright with rage. "I don't care what I called you. Quit trying to twist me into some damn knight from your silly tales." She was honestly nervous when he stepped closer, towering over her. "And if my Clegane is showing, I'd beat and rape you myself, Sansa," he growled, emphatically adding her name to drive home his point. "So don't you ever say that again. Ever."
Sansa pushed her chin up, shoving down the rising fear. "I've known monsters and demons my entire life. I've been broken and torn apart, left in the darkness to die. You don't frighten me."
"I should." She had not even realized that he had pressed a dagger to her bare throat until it was pinching her skin. His gray eyes flicked back and forth from one blue eye to the next.
The first verse of the Mother's song softly spilled from her lips again while her hand moved to caress his ruined face. Sansa toed the line of insanity, provoking the man that had lost count of all he killed. "Kill me now, Sandor, if you will not take me. I'd rather die at your hands than anyone else." She moved her free hand over his own and steadied the blade against her neck before he lowered it. "I need to go home. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell, a true daughter of the North. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell…I am all that is left. I must go home."
He swallowed hard before replying, "You will. I'll take you. Bugger it all." He limped to her bed and plopped down, the bed groaning under his frame. Without prompting, his story tumbled out; the Brotherhood, kidnapping Arya, the Red Wedding, her sister leaving him on the road and refusing to kill him, being found by the Elder Brother, and forfeiting the Hound's life for a life of silence as a gravedigger, ironic penance to the gods he didn't even believe in. Unintentionally, Sansa gravitated towards him while he spoke, after pouring a cup of wine and returning to sit next to him on the bed, inching closer with each pause. He ended his tale with a string of curses and turned, her face close to his, each feeling the other's breath on their lips. "I...I…" he stammered, leaning his body away from hers before abruptly standing and then fidgeting with the fire.
"Every night after you left," Sansa called from her perch on the bed, "I regretted not going with you. I was too scared, too naïve, too ridiculous; I was the little bird they had taught me to be, just like you said." She hesitated until Sandor turned to face her from his place near the fire. "You promised to keep me safe and the gods served me in kind." Sansa refused to look away from him, her blue eyes bright and void of any tears.
"I told you that I'd keep you safe and that no one would hurt you again or I'd kill them." The small dagger danced at his side as his fingers twisted it round and round. "You can only take what you can carry in a saddlebag. Stranger is in the stables. Can you steal some food?"
"No, but I can ask the maid to make me a pack to take." She smiled when his good eyebrow questioningly rose. She explained that the maid had helped dye her hair and figured out Sansa's identity some months ago. The maid's family was from the North, Hornwood, and had served as bannermen under her father and Robb. Sansa's Tully features were not as easily hidden as her dead, good father had hoped.
"Good," he gruffly replied. He opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again, as if wrestling with his own words. A quick flick of the wrist and the dagger was embedded into the door, the punctuation to his internal war. "Ask for a firestone. I've got to go find a sword worth stealing."
Before he could retrieve his dagger, Sansa placed her hand on his arm when he marched towards the door. He stopped, his eyes dropping to her hand as if it magically anchored him in place. "Thank you, Sandor. You may be no true knight, but you have saved me all the same. You are my knight. Even if you don't believe in them, I believe in you." He didn't argue, his gaze following as her fingers trailed down the septon robes to rest on his hand. "I will gather my things and see you in the stables then, Ser?" She combated his frown with a smile, rose on her tip toes and pressed a chaste kiss on his good cheek, knowing the other side would not be a wise decision.
"Aye." He disappeared quietly and Sansa made quick work of her own chores. She was able to feign illness to fetch her maid to the kitchen, who gladly and tearfully packed all that she could, along with two skins of wine. With a quick hug, Sansa returned to her room, clutching her stomach as she passed the guards. She only packed her pilfered stash of money, gems, a spare dress and small clothes and the silver hairbrush her mother had given her upon her departure from Winterfell. A quick search through her cedar chest and she was ready, layering everything under her heaviest cloak.
"Ah, it is snowing! I believe a turnabout the yard will alleviate what ails me," she explained to the sleepy sentries. "I will probably return by the door near the dining hall," Sansa added to keep them from looking for her, flashing a smile then turning it into a painful sounding moan for effect.
For half a moment she thought he had failed her, as she turned the corner to the stables and the pale moonlight revealed only shadows, devoid of movement. A silhouette gradually emerged from the forest edge and Sansa ran towards her deliverer, grateful that the Waynwoods did not live in a walled fort or keep. He held a finger to his lips to silence any greeting, grabbed her hand with his other and pulled her into the shadows towards the waiting horse.
After seating first himself in the saddle, Sandor hauled her up to sit behind him on a bedroll lashed to the saddle. Sansa snaked her arms around his waist. When they lurched forward, one of his enormous hands held hers fast so that she didn't fall. She held her breath when a branch would break under Stranger's hooves and smashed her eyes closed, wordlessly praying to the gods that had abandoned her years ago.
Her face pressed into his robes, hood drawn to keep the snow from her head, Sansa silently watched the moonlit forest and rock formations pass. The gray stones reminded her of Winterfell's walls and she smiled, pulling her body tighter against Sandor's.
"Are you alright?" He had released the reins with one hand and grasped hers at his waist again.
"For the first time in years, yes. Perfectly." His body hummed a chuckle. "I am going home."
"Aye, Little Bird, you're going home to a burned out and ruined castle, but I'll get you there."
"I always knew that you would." His laugh echoed off of the rocks and disappeared into the dark forest.