Sansa

As soon as their lips parted from the long and passionate kiss they shared, Sandor began to release Sansa from his embrace. The solid ground was shortly under her feet; with a pang, she let the tall man gently push her aside.

"Careful, little bird. That blade is sharp enough to cut one of your fine hairs in two," he warned while nodding at the bloodied sword he held.

The sight of the previously forgotten weapon and the gore that still covered it sent a shiver down Sansa's spine. Not accustomed to beholding such violence as she had moments before, the young girl was instinctively repelled by the remembrance of the bloodshed it had engendered. Without thinking, she moved back even further from Sandor only to bump into one of the corpses of her attackers. Yelping, she staggered, eyes wide with terror when she realized what she had stumbled upon but she rapidly took a step forward and jerked her head away from the dead man to look at the Hound instead. His face and tunic were splattered with scarlet droplets. This slaughter may be abhorrent but Sandor wasn't the one to initiate it. He has done it to save me, she reasoned in an attempt to soothe her strained nerves. The Hound had indeed killed both men for her sake and no one, if told of the tale of their assault, could argue that they hadn't deserved their fate. Still, that such ugliness could result from an act of justice and bravery was hard to grasp. What I have witnessed is never mentioned in the songs, but it is part of the stories nonetheless, Sansa suddenly by this new insight, she forced her gaze to wander over the pitiful pieces of flesh that were left of her attackers. The view was far from pretty but as she let her eyes rove, a revelation abruptly shook her. Every crimson slash that covered the corpses' skin was a declaration. Sandor Clegane may never tell her that he loved her, yet this was his way of showing the devotion and passion he felt for her. Sansa smiled at the idea. Never would she have envisioned that, in the blink of an eye, something so horrid could become utterly charming.

A scowl twisting his face, the Hound was crouched over the body that lay nearer to him when Sansa returned her attention to him. Carelessly, he wiped his sword against the tunic it wore, the weapon's dark steel shining almost blindingly under the dying sunbeams for a brief instant. Alert as a dog on the hunt trying to get the scent of his prey, Sandor then stood up, back braced and eyes narrowed while sheathing his sword at his hip. Warily, he peered around him for a few instants until he eyed the mess that was left of the things Sansa had settled on the boulder earlier. A heartbeat later, both her cloak and stockings were thrown over Sandor's elbow and her boots grabbed one-handed before the man turned around and returned to her hastily. Wordlessly, he leaned down and circled his free arm around Sansa's upper thighs just below her bottom. Her own arms instinctively snaked around his neck as he lifted her from the ground and began striding toward Stranger. Absorbed by the masculinity of his scent, Sansa kept her head down, nose nestled in the crook of Sandor's neck while he carried her like a child.

"Here, girl," the man whispered as he handed her clothing and boots to her once she was back on her feet. "Put this on again. We had best flee this damned place, at once. Who knows if a fucking garrison of those bastards is coming down the river just now?"

Nodding, Sansa obeyed without delay, starting by draping her cloak over her shoulders while Sandor saddled Stranger. She almost fell trying to slide her foot inside its stocking but quickly regained her balance and had just begun stretching the woolen cloth up to her knee when she felt the Hound's stare on her leg and froze. Noticing her unease, the man grunted and immediately avoided his eyes before resuming fitting his armour into the saddlebag. Cheeks flushed, Sansa managed to hide the shy smile that uncontrollably stretched her lips as she donned her other stocking and put on her boots. Once they were both laced, she gladly let Sandor grab her waist and settle her over Stranger's back.

"Let's go," he rasped as he jumped behind her and kicked the horse with his heels.

They rode through the woods for an unknown period of time; the world around Sansa was too blurry and dreamlike for her to distinguish the passing minutes. Eyes closed, she let her mind wander while she leaned comfortably against Sandor. Naught mattered to her at that moment but the feel of his unarmored body behind her and the pleasant tickle that the touch of his massive muscles sent all over her sensitive skin. The horror of the bloodied scene they had left now seemed as far away as King's Landing to Sansa and only the positive outcomes of the attack remained in her thoughts. He saved me… again, she kept marveling as she pressed the side of her head further into his chest. She couldn't say how many times he had rescued her previously, however she knew for a fact that she couldn't count the occasions on the fingers of a single hand. And he will save me once more if harm ever comes to me again. He'd probably even be willing to die for her, she reflected in awe. Sandor Clegane was truly her protector, the devoted knight she had always dreamed of - although he would never admit the latter. There was something overly romantic about it all. Like the heroines of the songs she had always loved so much, Sansa had the strongest man in the realm at her service, ready to sacrifice everything he had ever possessed and desiring only to be at her side. She sighed deeply, dizzy from the intensity of the dream that was taking root in her life. The gods were truly good and had sent her the knight she had prayed for so often during the sleepless nights of her confinement.

And there was another similarity Sansa shared with Queen Naerys, Jonquil and the like, the young girl realized, heart pounding. Forbidden love. Love?! she almost gasped aloud, eyes momentarily wide open. Is that truly what I now feel for him? The answer to the question was plain as the night that had recently fallen over the forest. The revelation was beyond shocking but Sansa was even more disconcerted to notice that she didn't feel so torn apart about her feelings towards the Hound anymore. The internal battle that had previously divided her so had ceased, ceding to soothing peace and harmony instead. Her heart had won the fight over her mind, which conceded the victory cheerfully, and all Sansa desired was to forget about every barrier that normally should've kept her from the man she loved, to be in his arms forever.

It was then that reality finally struck her, cold and cruel as a dagger thrust in one's back. Sandor and I will soon have to part, she remembered, eyes wide with dread. How was she ever going to be safe if the man that was meant to protect her was forced to abandon her? How would her heart keep on beating without his presence, looks and touches to precipitate its rhythm? Breathing in, Sansa tried to calm herself from the panic that was threatening to possess her. She would have to find a way to convince her mother to accept the Hound as her shield. It would be arduous to be sure, but anything was possible with enough determination and the right arguments, she decided. As King Joffrey's former sworn shield, Sandor Clegane's reliability as a protector had been proven on many occasions. He had fought many a war, won various battles and his mastery of the warrior arts was renowned throughout the Seven Kingdoms… but that would never convince her mother. She would hate him and wish him gone the minute she saw him arrive. Oh, she would never contradict the efficiency of having such a protector for one's daughter, of course, but could she forget the fact that he had been in the Lannisters' service for even longer than Sansa had been in this world? Could she overlook his reputation and looks, and especially, would she believe him when he announced that he had turned his cloak and was now planning to pledge his life to the Northern King?

Never.

I'll figure out a way to make her see. She might not believe the Hound, but she'll trust the word of her own daughter. I'll tell her how he saved me from many dangers and more, how he risked dying on my behalf continuously since our lives collided… I'll sing his praises so perfectly that she'll relent and permit him to stay with me and then, we'll never need to part. He'll become my shadow… Sansa had never desired anything more; surely the gods would listen and grant her only wish or else, why give her the knight she had prayed for only to take him away so soon? The gods won't tear us apart, I know they won't. They'll guide my mother and help me convince her to keep Sandor as my guard. She had to have faith in the gods and believe that her mother would yield to her request, for there was really nothing else she might do to aid her cause.

"I think this place will do for the night," the Hound stated suddenly, his rasping voice cutting though the silence that had enveloped them since they had fled the banks of the river.

Missing his warmth as soon as he had jumped from his place behind her, Sansa followed Sandor with her stare as he stalked around the clearing to make sure no hidden dangers awaited them. When he was confident the glade was safe, he came back to her and curved his strong hands around her waist. Their gazes locked; Sansa was melting into him as he began to bring her down. On reflex, she circled his broad neck and shoulders with her thin but determined arms, preventing him from settling her onto the ground. His scarred features were unreadable as she pressed her open lips against his but Sandor didn't fight against her kiss and let her tongue enter his mouth. His mouth was warm and comforting, his body robust as an oak beneath hers.

"We need to set up camp, Sansa," he grunted in an unconvincing tone as he let her go.

She nodded, peering at their surroundings although she couldn't make out much through the growing darkness. Absent-minded as she had been while they had fled, Sansa felt as if she had just materialized in these woods and the route they had followed had never existed. Their regular routine was quickly over and done; Sansa's bedroll was flat on the forest floor, ready to be slept over and Stranger was fed and freed from his saddle. Sandor had lit a small fire and he and Sansa had eaten a light meal of dried meat and old bread. Naught was left to do before they might sleep and so the man had found a tree that he could lean against and was busy cleaning his sword of the remaining blood that still threatened to rust its blade while Sansa watched him intently from across the flames. They won't part us, she repeated to herself as she discreetly began moving toward him, slowly creeping over the ground like a creature of the night. The Hound was almost startled when she finally reached him but he nevertheless didn't hesitate to throw his weapon aside and pull her over his lap. Sansa gave no resistance as it was exactly what she was longing for.

"I killed those buggers, little bird. You don't have to worry anymore," he rasped in her ear as if he believed that she had joined him in search of comfort. "If more come, they can all just line up and die, one after the other."

His words, although rough and unsophisticated, pleased Sansa no end with their confidence and brutish devotion. He would protect her. She had not been wrong moments earlier when she had fancied him her knight. He was.

"Oh, Sandor," she murmured, eyes gleaming just before he shut her up with a hungry, predatory kiss.

His tongue was soft, tender and commanding all at once in a mix so perfect that it answered Sansa's every need although she could tell that it would never satiate him. Her hands had somehow appeared over the Hound's chest and she shyly let her palms press against the firmness that lay beneath them. A moan escaped her lips when his mouth left hers and went trailing down her throat. More carefully than earlier, Sandor's hands were on her again but Sansa could sense that he was restraining himself. She wasn't, and therefore she let her fingers trace the muscles of his torso. They were taut and unbelievably solid under her timid touch and she was as horrified as pleasantly surprised by the unexpected impulse that allowed her to act so improperly. Blood was covering both her hands and his tunic as she tentatively stroked him but instead of appalling her as it should, the red stickiness only made her more aware of the lengths that the man was ready to go to on her behalf.

Eyes aflame with passion, Sandor pulled her even closer to him. Their intimacy at that moment was beyond overwhelming but Sansa didn't even think to struggle; she leaned her head on his shoulder and let the flow of their shared passion wash over her instead. The Hound's mouth was on her neck while his large hands caressed her waist and collarbone firmly. A peculiar but intoxicating heat was quickly invading Sansa's core, urging her to press further into him as if she wished to merge with the man. Breathing in, she allowed the sweet trance-like state in which she was shrouded to gradually drag her further into its abyss until the feel of a now-familiar stiffness abruptly disrupted her. Her eyes immediate popped open. Again?! she wondered, abashed by the touch of the unmistakable hardness under her backside and upper thighs. Do all men… react… so easily?

A vibration shook Sansa's cheek as the Hound snorted a short hoarse laugh. "Don't be so tense, little bird. I might be hard but I won't rape you," he said with amusement as softly as his rough voice could manage while caressing her hair.

Against all logic and every lesson she had ever been brought up with, Sansa relaxed as much as possible in that impossible situation. She shyly lowered her gaze but was unable to move away, the feel of Sandor's hard member against her soft body trapping her into stillness. The small flame that had previously been lit inside her stomach had now evolved into a great and mighty fire but her fine breeding prevented her from acting on this new mystifying passion. Arms curled around Sandor, she was as motionless as if the world had stopped turning, only the increasing heaving of the man's chest told her that it was not so. Fingers busily stroking her hair, cheek and neck in slow, smooth circles, the Hound let Sansa rest against him for a time but then pushed her gently from him. "You need sleep, little bird," he said as he stood up. "And I… I need to piss," he declared before stalking into the woods.

Alone, Sansa sat with her legs drawn up against her breasts, hair tousled while mixed feelings overwhelmed her. How could she ever have permitted all this to unfold? A new barrier had been broached and she hadn't voiced a single word to stop it. Her silence had in some way been tacit approval of the Hound's actions, Sansa realized warily. She had been warned many times against the dangers that ensued from fraternizing with boys – or men – in the manner that interested her by her mother and Septa Mordane. What kind of ladies let retainers do things like these to them? It was certainly very unsettling, however Sansa couldn't find it in her to truly be concerned by her recent actions with Sandor. I love him. Wasn't that alone enough substance to support all their deeds? It is, she decided as she crawled to her bedroll. Of course, she would never dare to let things go further than they had already, but that evidently went without saying. The furs were cold when she pulled them up and so Sansa curled into herself in search of warmth, the movement reminding her of the queer sensation that still lingered in her loins. She bit her lips and blushed madly as she remembered how the Hound's manhood had rubbed against her twice that day but the idea wasn't so frightening anymore. No, Sansa was now more curious than scared at the prospect of what might occur between them. What could possibly be so bad about feeling a man's hardness through the fabric of his garments anyway? It wasn't proper but it didn't compromise her in any way. It didn't bring any ill, really and the Hound would never take her completely if she didn't give him her consent first, Sansa was certain about that. He wants me though, she mused, suddenly submerged by the immensity of the implication. The thing he desired from her was as forbidden as it was unnamable. Only a rightful husband could ever hope to get such a present from a maiden; Sandor certainly knew that she could never give it to him. Or could she? No. Oh, no, never! I should be ashamed just to consider it! Sansa cried out inwardly.

Yet, once the idea had taken root in her mind, there was no ignoring it anymore. Although it would be beyond unacceptable, she had it in her power to offer herself to Sandor if the desire took her. Absurd as it may seem, she had never fully grasped the control she had over herself and her destiny in that matter. The notion of that newfound freedom sent an exciting shiver down to her core. What would occur if she gave herself to Sandor Clegane? Most likely, he'd waste no time in tearing her gown open and immobilizing her on the ground before exploring her softness with rough, urgent hands. Her bare, sensitive skin would rub against his calloused and hairy male body as he possessed her completely…. She'd be so tiny and powerless that he would cover every inch of her –

This is not right! she tried to reason, but there was no fighting against the force that had taken her over. She was already a slave to her own curiosity and yearning as she tentatively squeezed her thighs together, eager to relieve the unsettling tingle that was building there. It wasn't enough though; the pressure only seemed to tease her more. Almost against her will, Sansa let her hand slide over her gown until she reached the place she was troubled by. The ache was still heavy, almost blinding as she stroked it through the cloth. The sensation it brought was exquisite but still not strong enough. She was in no state to worry about what was seemly or not anymore and therefore didn't even think about restraining herself as she gripped her skirts and brought them higher over her thighs. Her fingers were finding their way to that secret part of her when the sound of Sandor's footsteps suspended her every movement. What would the Hound think of her if he knew the impossible position she was in? Horrified by what she had gotten herself into, Sansa stayed still and made as if she had fallen into a deep sleep. Thankfully, the man was too tired to notice anything. With a grunt, he almost collapsed as he lay down against the tree he had chosen earlier and began snoring less than a minute later. Once she was certain he had lost all trace of consciousness, Sansa opened her eyes and turned her head around. The fire was now no more than a few dim sparks of light but she nonetheless could make out the shape of his massive limbs, burnt face and heaving chest through the darkness. She longed to rejoin him and spend the night tangled in his arms but couldn't gather the courage nor the force of will to leave the warmth of her bedroll. Instead, she began stirring the fingers that were still hidden between her legs, the queer sensation she had earlier felt immediately revived by the movement.

It wasn't the first time Sansa had explored that part of herself but never before had her folds been so sensitive to her touch. Nor could she have foreseen the intensity of the response it would trigger in her. The nub of skin she had previously discovered was reactive to an extent she hadn't experienced until now; nervously she breathed in and let her fingers trace small circles there. Something mysterious was building in her and would rapidly engulf her, Sansa realized. Biting her lip, she gazed at the Hound, admiring his imposing form one last time before she shut her eyes and let her pleasure flood over her in a gigantic and uncontrollable wave of ecstasy. She barely managed not to moan aloud as she increased the pressure but then she halted and opened her eyes in amazement. Never had she suspected that such bliss could arise from mere caresses; nobody had ever told her that her body held such wonders. Is this part of what attracts men to women so and makes them try to divert maidens and wives from their duty? Undoubtedly, Sansa concluded with a smile. She felt as if she had just uncovered a fragment of a secret that was meant to stay hidden until her wedding night but strangely enough, the idea didn't shame or trouble her. Things were definitely changing in her, she reflected as she closed her eyes. Sleep wasn't long in coming; minutes later, her breathing slowed down as she stepped into the realm of dreams.

Hope you enjoyed this one!

Just to let you know, this story is slowly but surely approaching its ending. I estimate that they'll be about four other chapters after this one. I prefer to tell you this now so that you are mentally prepared when the end arrives.

There are lots of things that can happen in four chapters though, so no use worrying! ;)