Part 2

I should have said Jaime, she kept repeating to herself like it was a magic spell. She thought maybe if she said it enough times the words would take her back in time and she could say his name. The first part of her trial had ended a while ago. The winter moon was high. Its white light sent shadowy gashes through the slit window.

Jaime would have likely died against Robert Strong and she would have been found guilty but it almost seemed worth it. He was the Queen's most loved brother, and an enemy of her family. To see him die would be justice enough to send her to her grave with a smile on her face. Then there was the Hound, a man built on revenge and bloodlust. He only came back to finally kill his older brother. Part of Sansa wanted to take that away from him, to hurt and disappoint him.

Though, she didn't. She wouldn't be like that, even with people like this. Sansa remembered a time years ago, when she lived in Winterfell and all her family was still alive. Arya had ripped one of her dresses, so Sansa broke a toy bow her sister had made. When her lady mother found out she said "revenge is never the answer, revenge won't change the past and it won't bring back something you love. Only justice can bring you peace" the next day her mother had mended the dress and Arya got a real bow.

She remembered her mother's words better than she remembered her face. She had a wisdom that Sansa had never found in books. She wondered if her mother was alive now, would she scorn her for wishing cruelty on these people. "I would never do it mother" she whispered to a being that wasn't there "I can dream about hurting them, but I would never do it, I am not like them." She lay down on her make-shift mattress of wood and straw. The finer pieces pieced into her skin and scratched her through her flimsy shift but she managed to slip away into her dreams.

She found herself in the main hall of the Great Sept of Baelor. It was night time; the normally rich coloured marbles walls radiated a polished darkness. It was disserted, apart from her, in a chair surrounded by the seven faces of the new Gods. She was dressed in the same blue and grey dress she wore to her trial but it hung looser, like she still had her childlike body without breasts or hips. She looked down at her pale trembling hands then back up to face her judgement from the gods. Their features had changed and all but one formed skin over their marble carvings.

The father's face was blurred, so much so that the features were unrecognisable, but Sansa knew it was her father, Ned Stark. Next to him was her mother holding her baby brother Rickon in her arms. Robb stood as the warrior, His hands held tightly to the hilt of their father's sword, Ice. The smith's face was completely engulfed by the darkness but by the size of him, he could only ever be The Hound. The Crone's expression matched Septa Mordane's controlled pout.

Sansa was the maiden and the only one still cast in marble. She was battered, bruised, and her dress torn to shreds. Her expression was an ice cold glare. The final statue had scraggy that surrounded a completely blank face. No eyes, nose, or mouth, just pale skin. The thing's hand was clasped around a short sword.

Sansa found herself on her knees. Her cheeks were damp with tears and her nails dug into the stone floor. She was crying harder than she ever did as a child, "I am sorry" she wailed staring at the blur that was her father's face "please forgive me, I never forgot you, I only pretended to" in the large room her voice didn't echo. It sounded like a whisper for a voice that didn't belong to her, right next to her ear. She even thought the hot breeze around her felt like someone's breath.

There was a shift in the air. The wind turned cold and swirled with a violent gusto that snapped at her dress and tried to lift her from the floor. When the gust stroked the statues they suddenly began to morph before her eyes. Her father completely faded from memory. Her mother paled and dropped her brother. He disappeared like fog before hitting the floor. Robb turned into a hideous bleeding wolf that collapsed to the floor in a gory heap.

Darkness enclosed in on Sansa. When the shadows touched her hands it felt like snow falling on her skin. The figures around her faded and were forgotten in her memory. The snow made from darkness landed on her marble white skin until she was gone as well.

"Oh Gods, what is wrong with me!" Sansa inwardly shouted. She had the dream four nights in a row, each time the figures faded quicker, one time she saw Rickon hit the floor, another she saw her mother rip her own face apart.

Her trial was drawing ever closer and it terrified her, though she wouldn't admit it to the snoopy Septas that brought her clean dresses and idle gossip about the War of the Dragon Queen. She had no supporters or no reason to live but she wasn't ready to die, not yet anyway. If the Gods were fair they would save her. What Gods? A familiar voice said in the back of her mind. After all these years, even she didn't know.

She knew the Seven, their names, the songs and the prayers that went with them, but what if they've forsaken her? When she lived with Petyr she would prayer in the Godswood. It didn't have a weirwood so it wasn't like the one in Winterfell but it was quiet, without singing or candles. She cherished the silence; she could go there and remember. Sometimes she even heard voices, her father's voice, and one or two times it was Bran telling her to be strong.

She wondered what would happen if she rejected the laws of the Seven completely and denied a trial by combat. Likely they would just find you guilty by default her mind concluded.

When a few Septas entered her cell she considered telling them about her new found respect for the old gods. Though, Before she could speak a spindly woman with long nails that always scratched her when she helped Sansa dress said "It is customary for the accused to meet with their champion before the trial. We have water coming for a bath, but do make any requests for your meeting, perhaps some wine" she smirked.

The other septa also smiled devilishly "Indeed, I don't remember much about the Hound, but I do recall he did enjoy his drink"

"I don't think that is necessary" Sansa snapped, "I can't imagine him staying long. If I must meet him, dress me suitability for the occasion, and would you all please keep your opinions to yourself, we are in a holy building after all" Sansa commanded glaring at the pair of them.

A sideways glance between the two Septa was all that was exchanged. They continued the rest their duties in silence. They bathed her and brought her a new plain dress of grey before exiting. In those few seconds when the Septas left to retrieve her champion, she realized she was about to talk to Sandor, alone.

After four years of wistful thinking and dreaming of a burnt warrior to come a save her, he is now here, telling her that he is willing to risk his life to defend her. Now though, instead of blushes and butterflies all she felt was anger. Her hands had formed fists on her lap and her jaw was set straight as she watched the door from her seat on the bench.

There was a heavy knock on the door. Sansa wondered if everything he did was heavy and rough, but she reminisced the way he gently dabbed blood from her lips, and saved her from falling. A queer subconscious smile formed on her lips but she quickly changed it into an apathetic frown.

The skinny Septa led Sandor Clegane through the door, for which he had to duck low for. Sansa had almost forgotten just what a huge man he truly was, especially in the tiny cell where he could barely stand up straight. The knights of the Vale couldn't compete with him, and certainly Petyr looked minuscule compared to such a man. She saw the twisted burns on his face had gotten no better from memory but possibly new burns had appeared on his neck and arm. She also noticed that this was possibly the first time she had seen him without armour on. He wore a heavy fur lined cloak which he removed and passed to the Septa. Underneath, he wore a simple brown woolen tunic and brown breechers.

She rose politely and curtsied. "My lord, I want to thank you for offering yourself as my champion" she addressed him graciously, making sure to look at his face knowing he would have liked that.

The Hound didn't bow to her, or address her, he merely smirked.

The Septa left them alone in the cell and another closed the door behind her. The footsteps and excited whispers drifted away and Sansa knew she was alone. "Would you like to take a seat…?" She almost said ser but stopped herself.

He continued to smirk. "As you wish, Lady Sansa" he answered in a mocking tone. Sansa glared at him as he took a seat. The bench lowered substantially as it tried to hold his weight.

It was strange to see him again, so close and so calm. He didn't look as angry as she remembered. His face was still hideously scared and he held it in the usual scowl, but his grey eyes were softer. They had always been what terrified her the most, they had been furious and pained; now they were different. Not kind, but controlled.

His mouth still twitched dreadfully but even that wasn't threatening. She had felt those lips on hers. They could spew out hatred and vile truths but they could also kiss. Maybe after the trial I could kiss him again Sansa thought in her lazy daydream.

"What?" The Hound barked harshly. She realized she'd spent five minutes just staring at him.

She pulled her back straight and kneeled in front of him, her palms felt damp and her face burned with a childlike blush "I am sorry, my urrr, I was just thinking deeply and I forgot where I was." She looked out the window to disguise her embarrassment.

Calm down her mind told her as she tried to think of all her lessons. Since she started them with Petyr she always managed to keep her composure, in front of all types of folk, from lords and ladies, to commoners and knights. This was different though, then she had been Alayne Stone, even during the trial she could use her Alayne Stone walls. Now, around The Hound, she could only ever be Sansa Stark and that terrified her.

She heard him laugh at her "as you say Lady Stark"

She studied him again, this time in a different way. "You never called me that before" she murmured trying to find her voice.

"It is your name isn't it? It has been a while, you can't expect me to remember all the names of all the little girls in Joffery's court." He responded, his burnt side shuddering.

Sansa felt a pain streak through her but she tried to make sure it didn't show on her face. She smiled graciously as well but it was so forced that it hurt "Well, I remember you, you were kind to me" She lowered her voice to barely a whisper "You told me the truth about him, you tried to protect me. You... You never hurt me. For years I have wanted to say thank you" she presented the words like they were a lines from a script Petyr had taught her but that was only to make sure she kept control.

His face turned serious but his mouth twitched violently. For the first time since he walked into the room he tore his eyes away from her "I don't recall every being kind to you."

"Why are you lying to me?" Sansa shot back quickly, her mouth hung open in an immature scowl. Her voice was a pathetic whine, and her pain was evident. "You said you would never lie to me"

He didn't rise to the accusation like the old Hound might of. Instead, he look frustrated, he spoke to her like she was a spoilt child "Lady Stark I–"

"– Stop calling me that!" she rose from her knees so she towered over him. "You called me little bird, that was the last thing you said to me before you left me with them. If you carry on pretending not to remember then I do not wish to speak to you."

The Hound looked her up and down then rose from his seat. She was worried for a moment that he might walk out. He took a few steps towards her so that their chests were barely touching. He loomed over her, his mouth twitching but nothing about him was menacing. His actions were disciplined. She stared up into his grey eyes and took in his looks and scent. Last time they met he stunk like blood, fire, and wine. Now he was smelt of bath salts and cold sweat.

"You're not a little bird anymore" he marvelled oddly. He raised his hand like he was about to touch her hair but drew it back to his side nervously. "You're still chirping all those lies your septa taught you, and all these new ones, but your talons are sharper. I guess that what you get when you start living with falcons and mockingbirds. Is that what you are like now? Fighting like a falcon and singing lies as easily as the mockingbirds." He spat the last part in an accusing fashion, his restrained anger clear on his face.

Sansa put her hand on his arm to try and soothe him but he shrugged her off. "You've changed too" she pointed out sweetly, she held her hands together to stop herself for reaching for him again. He wasn't a lord or a knight, he was the Hound. He couldn't be moved like other men, he was built on emotions, and he only responded to reality. Lies and sweet words won't work on him. "I have to admit, I am surprised to see you like this, so calm, so not like yourself" she chimed coolly.

He chuckled coldly "and why is that Lady Stark?"

She repressed a shudder at the name, it didn't sound right when he said it, then again nothing felt right about her in that second, it was too Sansa Stark, but he wasn't the Hound. "Petyr told me that you went on a rampage about the Riverlands, you slaughtered and raped your way through villages. He said you were a rapid dog, far worse than you brother. People were scared you may have come as far as the Vale."

His grey eyes altered the moment she mentioned his brother. The anger was back burning in the grey like embers in ash, less controlled, more animal like. "What about you?" he sneered, jaw clenched tight, his fists were balled up like he might hit her. "Were you scared in the Keep with Petyr Baelish keeping you company?"

Her face stayed as emotionless as a marble statue of the maiden. She shook her head and hissed a soft "no" almost apathetically.

That annoyed him even more. He backed away from her like she was poisonous. "Stupid little bird" he chocked to himself in a familiar rasp, the words sent warm chills up her spine. "You still think you can be protected from the world by knights don't you. If I came to that Holdfast you were staying in I wouldn't have murdered every last person there, no knight could have stopped me. Or maybe the little bird has grown into a wolf with wings, she doesn't fear a great Hound like me anymore." His breath was harsh in his throat. Yet, he was noticeably trying to control his rage.

She unlocked her own fingers and took a few steps towards him. "I haven't been scared of you for years. If Petyr told me you were outside the Moongates I would have been surprised more than anything else." They were close together again, but not touching.

He rubbed his jaw with his hand and sighed, clearly trying to relieve his frustration. "why?"

"I thought you were dead" she answered frigidly. She found herself not looking at his eyes, but instead at his chest. "You could never do those horrible things people were saying. I know your brother massacred hundreds when Tywin ordered him to. You could never be a monster like him, not even under someone's ordered." She gazed up at him, his eyes still burning. She placed her palms on his muscled chest "I heard a rumour from a knight that you were dead, killed by your brother's men, hearing that actually hurt me more than I ever cared to admit, I would have rather believed you were a monster." She gulped down a choke, hoping that tears wouldn't form.

When she truly believed that he was dead was the moment when she lost all hope of leaving Petyr and his fantasy. It was one of the few nights that Myranda hadn't shared her bed and she was given some alone time between Petyr's whispers and Robert's games. She didn't even really notice that she was thinking about Sandor, then almost a moment later she was crying.

It was the last time she let herself cry. When she was the child that married Tyrion she had learnt to keep her tears to herself. In the Vale she attempted to stop crying all together. Proving to herself that she had no weaknesses anymore.

Even when she heard Jon had been betrayed by his brothers in the Nights Watch.

It had been Littlefinger who told her one evening in his solar. When he saw the tears welling in her eyes he grabbed her jaw in one hand and forced her to look at him "Be Alayne Stone all the time, she didn't know the Starks, she wouldn't cry from them, you shouldn't either" he then gave her an overly affectionate kiss then sent her off to bed. She whimpered to herself before falling to sleep but when the morning came, no more tears fell and she was Alayne again.

"You left me, then you died, and now you're here again" she whispered barely an inch from Sandors skin. She tilted her neck up, parted her lips and then waited.

"We shouldn't be talking about this" Sandor grumbled, his rash voice was shallow. He retreated and sat down in his space on the bench; his eyes focusing on every inch of the cell that was not her.

Sansa blushed heavily, embarrassed, confused, and now remembering why she was angry at him before he entered the room. She put on her stone face and knelt down before him again, never slouching or taking her eyes off him.

"We must discuss the fight, is there anything you expect of me, my lady" he inquired.

She tried to meet his eyes but he avoid her's at all costs "I expect you to win, my lord" she fumed, her irritation evident.

He peered at her like a pathetically nervous creature "Don't be short with me, My Lady"

"I am sorry, I am just confused why I should have to tell you how to do something you have been doing your whole life" Sansa sarcastically stated, her fingers fiddled with her dress and she pursed her lips. "Anyway, I am sure you already have a plan to kill your brother, I doubt anything I say will change that" Sandor tore his eyes from hers like he had just been struck. She almost laughed at him. "That is why you're here isn't it? To kill your brother? I don't know why you are wasting your time talking to me when clearly you want to sharpening the sword you're going to drive through Gregor Clegane."

He put his head in his hands "I thought the years would have made you more mature little bird" he grunted into his hands.

"Oh is it little bird now?"

"I would call you Lady Stark if you actually acted like a lady and not a spoilt little child" he barked, his control slowly slipping.

"I don't see why you would call me Lady Stark. You might not know this, but after you left me they married me to Tyrion, therefore I am a Lannister now."

Sandor rose from his seat and trampled his way straight past her towards the exit. "I asked you to come with me, and you refused me." He snapped loudly when he was close to the door "If I knew they would have given you to him, I would have dragged you from that keep"

There was a stillness that was only broken by the sound of his breath. Sansa remained seated "Words are wind" she answered coldly, her jaw felt tight. She turned back to the bench and listened to him breath. He took another step to the door "And can I just clarify, I never said no" she added.

He moved swiftly then, bonding back from the exit. The Hound grabbed Sansa by the top of her arm and pulled her to her feet. He turned her around and pushed her into the wall not as harshly as she would have expected. "Don't lie to me girl, you were never going to say yes to me"

Sansa scoffed fearlessly "Did you expect me to say yes? At what moment did you think I was going to leap into your arms and agree to runaway with you? When you pushed me down on to my bed and threatened to kill me? Or when you held a knife to her throat and demanded a song?"

Moving away from her, he shook his head "Fucking Hells little bird, you blame me for leaving you, you were never going to leave with me"

"You belonged to Joffery, did you expect me to trust you?" she thrusted herself off the wall so she could be toe to toe with him again.

"No I didn't expect you to trust me, but then I found out you fucking trusted Little-fucking-finger!" he roared so loud the entire building and half of Kingslanding probably heard.

Sansa groaned, her frown deepened, there was no point hiding her anger now "You have no idea what happened before I ended up in the hands of Lord Baelish. I didn't have a choice!" she belted back, not as loud but certainly just as furious.

"Oh, be fucking honest. Up in the Eyrie and the Vale you weren't exactly worried about Petyr treating you like the bastard Joffery did. When you ate with him every night I am sure you were bloody gratefully he swooped in to take you to safety."

Huffing, she folded her arms across the chest "When I was taken from Kingslanding by Petyr, yes I was grateful, I was going to be accused of murdering a king I had no other choice. And, why shouldn't I be grateful? When he took me away he did it because he loved my mother, he expected nothing from me" Sansa said boldly.

He looked her up and down like she was filth "When he first took you away you were a girl, but I am guessing when the pretty little bird got bigger tits, and soft hips, he expected more from you than just your pretty smiles. He is a man and over the years all he would see is the tight cunt sitting in front of him, he probably wondered if it felt like your mother's." He leaned in close to her, his mouth snarling at her "I am sure you gave it to him happily because you are so damn gratefully of the things he did for you"

That was when she slapped him. Hard, with the back of her hand on the unburnt side of his face. The slap made little noise but when she drew her hand back it stung red. It even left a mark on the huge man's face. Her attacking hand trembled, worried he may hit her or even worse completely walk out and never see her again. "I am sorry, that was unladylike" she chirped bowing her head.

She looked at her hands waiting for his next movement. She heard him laughing, a thick warm laugh coming from his belly. She gazed up. The unburnt side of his face was crimson and painful looking but he still laughed at her.

She started to think of her next words but she was hushed by Sandor "Don't" he chuckled with laughter tears in his eye "don't say sorry, I deserved that, I was being a nasty bastard" he clicked her jaw "Gods little bird, that almost hurt, who have you been practicing on? The Imp? Petyr?"

Sansa giggled nerviously "no one actually, neither of them gave me reason to, it takes a special kind of man to frustrate me as much as you do"

His mouth twitched into a smile, his teeth even gleamed through like he hadn't smiled like this in years "You're stronger than you were" He observed proudly "but you're still the pretty little bird, saying fancy words and sorrys" she pushed some auburn hair from her eyes, he looked like he was about to ask her a question but he stopped himself. Instead he said "You're just like the ladies you hear about in songs"

And you're like a hero her mind thought but she didn't dare say it. He wasn't a hero, he came here to kill his brother, and nothing else mattered. Whatever this moment was, the way he was looking at her, it didn't matter, her life wasn't a song. "I'm not" she whispered "I have just gotten better at pretending to be like one."

His lifted her chin and ran his callus hand down her neck sending chills across her skin. "You really are like something out of a song. You have fire within you, in your hair, and in your eyes." His hand glided across the soft curls in her hair.

She pouted playfully, it was something Petyr had taught her to do when enticing Harold, but now it felt natural "I thought you hated fire"

He chuckled to himself "I do, but in winter, we need fire to keep us alive"

They stood for a long while just there, watching each other, neither of them speaking. The midday sun was setting early into the unforgiving winter night. Pink light decorated the room with a heated glow. Crows flew by delivering messages, probably from the war effort down south.

"Where have you been all these years?" she asked leaning into him slightly. She felt his heartbeat through his thick woolen tunic.

"Healing. I needed to recover from this shit heap." He grimaced out the window.

"Then, is it a good thing that I didn't come with you then?" she asked mischievously, she giggled lightly but he didn't smile.

He gulped. On the burnt side of his neck she could see the muscles quiver. "Only if… he… did he hurt you?" he stuttered fearfully, like it was a question he was scared to hear the answer of.

Sansa smiled and shook her head "Tyrion? No, he never touched me after our wedding night, and even on that night he didn't fulfill his deeds as a husband. He scared me though, but everything scared me back then. Even you but that didn't last long, when you were gone, I just wanted you back again. You could never hurt me, you would have protected me and I would have never been scared again" she cupped his cheek like she did that night all those years ago.

His burnt side twitched like it was about to smile but instead his eyes filled with tears. He fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around her waist in a tight embrace, his face pressed against her belly "I am sorry Little Bird, I am so sorry."

Sansa steadied herself, almost losing her balanced from the ferocity of his embrace. When she found her footing she stroked his hair lightly "Don't be sorry, when you were here, you helped me, you taught me about the world, you said enough and gave me a cloak to cover my shame, I remember it all."

He is actually crying Sansa noticed, she let her hand travel across his head and down his face. "No, I could have killed them all and I let them beat you, I left you with that monster with nothing but a damn white cloak. I heard you had been caught by the Lannister bitch I came back to be your champion. I thought maybe if I fought for your life it would have done enough to deserve your forgiveness; but I can't beat him Little Bird" he sobbed into her dress "I couldn't fight him then and I can't fight him now, I am too old, too weak. I will lose to him and you will have your head chopped off for it."

Sansa pulled her arms from her waist so that she could crouch down with him. "Don't cry Sandor" she hushed him taken his face in his hands. He looked young, harmless, weaker than Robert Arryn ever looked "It'll be ok, you are my warrior, stronger than anyone I know. You are stronger than my father and my brothers; you are stronger than lions and mountains. You have beaten fire and you have already out lived your brother once, you can do it again." She leaned in a kissed him gentle on the burnt side of his lips "I am innocent of these crimes and you are a better man than all of them, that means the gods will let us win" She planted another kiss on the other side of his mouth.

She rested her forehead on the bridge of his nose.. "Little Bird…" He rasped.

She silenced him with another kiss on his bottom lip. It was softer than in her memory, the ruined side wasn't quite so scabbed and the fine side wasn't quite to cruel, they were full and soft and placed fully on hers. She felt his lips tighten under hers and he was kissing her back. It was a far more furious kiss than the one she remembered and far more… real, if that is possible. She moved her hands down his damp ruined face to his thick neck then rested one hand on his thigh and the other balled his shirt on his chest up in her tiny fist.

He didn't touch her at all, his hands stayed at his side but he leaned into her, opening his mouth for her tongue and at one point bite down on her lip when she pulled away slightly only to push herself back onto him harder.

She was left breathless when he eventually forced himself away from her. "You shouldn't do that." He choked, his grey eyes still wet and staring into her, undoing all her thoughts.

"But I wanted to" Sansa breathlessly answered not sure what to say, her hands clutching on to his shirt and upper thigh.

He prized her from his shirt and he pushed his way to his feet. He moved toward the door, making clumsy steps as if he was drunk. Balancing himself on the door frame, his mouth hanging open struggling to breathe.

His face was lit by the hot red early evening sky. She saw something in his eyes, lust possibly or maybe something more innocent than that "I will win tomorrow, for you." he spoke with nothing but weakness, his hands shaking. "and after the fight I will take you from this place, somewhere safe. I will never break another promise to you Little Bird" his pained rasp was hardly louder than a whisper. He swung open the door, almost ripping it off its hinges, and stridden away.

Sansa was perched on the floor, her dress spilling around her. Her skin prickled curiously. She could still feel him on her lips and taste him in her mouth. Her first kiss was so innocent compared to this one, it barely happened in comparison.

A few Septas entered, each swapping suspicous glances between each other. They couldn't have known what happen, and if they did Sansa didn't care. "Is you champion ready for tomorrow" asked the skinny one as she slowly unlaced the back of Sansa dress.

"Yes" Sansa replied with a wolfish grin "I believe he is"

My notes: Sorry for the late entry. I own nothing and that is final... I do so great apoligise if this isn't as wonderful as I wanted it to be, I will proof read it soon and correct everything, I have looked over it quite a few times but it is likely I have made mistakes again.