Hey everyone!
New chapter, hope you'll enjoy!
Anna, the Braxs' handmaiden, woke Sansa a little after dawn. With well–practiced movements, she opened the curtains and aired the chamber while Sansa sleepily sat at the edge of her bed, rubbing her eyes. The woman had brought with her a bowl of steaming milk and a large piece of honeyed bread which Sansa glared at for some time. The very sight of food made her stomach turn. I need to eat, I have a long day before me, she reflected as she stood up and dutifully walked to the table. She had barely absorbed anything yesterday after all, when the Hound had been with her… Oh Sandor, Sansa sighed sadly to herself, heart aching.
Reluctantly, she slowly but determinedly broke her fast until the tray was completely empty of food. She did feel slightly better with her belly full, she realised later as she let Anna dress her in a dark green velvet gown.
"Lady Sophia was quite a bit older than you when she left the Westerlands to marry but you're filling her gown as nicely as she did," the maid commented, her hands busily tightening the laces at Sansa's back. The garb had seen better days, judging by the worn patches of its skirt but its quality was undeniable. "The color is perfect for you. Really goes well with your skin and hair, m'lady."
She did look pretty in dark green, Sansa admitted to herself as she admired her reflection in the large mirror that adorned the wall; however her beauty was diminished by the redness of her eyes and the dull, puffy skin that surrounded them. I look so tired, she mused with despair but the old maid was apparently not agreeing with her.
"You're very beautiful, m'lady. Sit here; I'll brush that thick hair of yours," she said in a motherly tone while gently pushing Sansa into a large cushioned chair.
Obediently, the young girl settled herself and shut her eyes, letting the pleasant feeling of the wooden brush soothe her for a short time as it combed through her wild curls.
"This is a very important day for you, m'lady. You're going to be reunited with your family! I would be so happy if I were you," the old maiden joyfully told her as she began to braid the long hair.
Sansa was so drained, she didn't even have the energy to explain that Hornvale was more than a day's ride from the Golden Tooth and that she would therefore most likely not be with her family for another two or three days but what would be the use anyway?
"I am indeed excited, Anna. I thank you," Sansa recited with fake enthusiasm. I should be happy… How can I be so morose when I'm so near my year-long dream?
Biting her lip, Sansa lowered her gaze on her anxious hands. She did know the answer to that question. Sandor… She couldn't lose him.
Her previous evening with the Hound had been a total disaster… To begin with, she had been sick with worry as soon as she and Sandor had met with Lord Richard Brax. The notion that the Hound's treason might be uncovered had truly terrified her and she had held her breath all the way to the castle. Thankfully, it had soon been evident that the Braxs were ignorant on the matter, yet another worry had shortly replaced the previous one at the head of Sansa's list. Lord Richard, in his blind generosity, had offered to provide them with an escort to the Golden Tooth. How could Sandor have accepted? Sansa had wondered from the moment she had grasped what it meant. Hadn't he realised that their days of intimacy would be as good as over if he did? Lord Richard didn't give him much of a choice, Sansa reasoned, although she was still slightly bitter that he hadn't fought harder to be rid of these unwanted additions to their party. Once at the castle, Anna had led her to her chamber, away from Sandor and Sansa had waited long hours for him, struggling not to shed tears whenever she remembered how their situation had so cruelly been transformed almost in the blink of an eye. One moment, they had been two lovers secluded from the rest of the universe and the next, they had been surrounded by strangers and compelled to act as if they were no more than a prisoner and her gaoler. She needed to talk to him and badly before their departure on the morrow! Both of them would have to agree on their plan of action, she believed, so that once the exchange took place they'd be on the same page. I was so certain he would agree to become my sworn shield and trust me to convince my family… but naught went well again.
Reality wasalways so much harsher than dreams and while the Hound might have become her knight, he was still the same rabid beast she had always known him to be. Only broaching the subject of their future had proven a challengeto Sansa. As much as she loved him, she still felt intimidated by his imposing presence and she had been fearful of his reaction, with excellent reasons she had learned. The well thought out words she had repeated to herself all afternoon had all escaped her mind when she had finally gotten his attention and she had used the language of a stupid child instead. No wonder he had spurned her idea as soon as he had heard it, temper rising. His response had affected her so that she had not been able to hold back her tears, only then the weirdest thing had arisen. All of a sudden, the Hound's mood had dramatically changed and he was asking her to follow him to the Free Cities, begging even… She had been so completely overwhelmed by the intensity and urgency in his voice, by the passion of his caresses and kisses that she had almost said yes, that she had been ready for a dizzying moment to surrender herself to him completely – body and soul but then she had remembered how close she was to Riverrun's doorstep. How could she flee just now, when she had almost reached the goal she had so desperately prayed for over more than a year? She had longed for the safety of her mother's arms for moons and moons; she couldn't possibly turn back now! Her destiny was with her family and she also had a duty to fulfill in the North. How could she flee across the Narrow Sea in these conditions? They could not desert like that, she had thought, and thus she had tried once more to bring the Hound to understand but he had been stubborn as a dog holding a bone between its teeth and hadn't given one inch of his previous resolution. Even worse, Sandor had become blank and unresponsive and put distance between them, glaring in her direction for Sansa didn't know how long before abruptly abandoning her.
It was still so early when he had left and thus Sansa had had hours to spend by herself, crying miserably and hugging herself while she should've been cradled in her protector's arms. Many times, she had considered joining him in his room and attempting to explain herself once more but she had never gathered the courage to face him. I probably should have gone, she thought regretfully; Sansa was distressingly afraid that she might not have the chance to pick up the pieces before they left the castle. Was Sandor still mad at her? He has probably taken my refusal to follow him as rejection... Was it a mistake on my part? Will I come to bewail my choice if I lose him because of this? I love him… I need him! Still, Sansa could not truly regret the decision she had made; her place was with her family after all. And the Hound's place is by my side, with me and them. In spite of what he had said, Sansa was still convinced that she could persuade her mother that Sandor was worthy enough to be her sworn shield; the only problem was that she had to sway him first…
"You're all set, m'lady," the maid suddenly announced, taking Sansa out of her musing.
"I thank you, Anna. I think I'll go wait outside in the yard for my escort to be ready. I… I need some air."
"That's good, m'lady. Farewell!" the woman said warmly as she began to gather the linens from the bed.
"Farewell to you too, Anna," Sansa responded while opening the door and striding out of the room.
She had hoped that Sandor might still be in his chamber but that had been a foolish notion; he was not the kind of man to linger in bed longer than necessary. His door was wide open when she reached it, exposing its cruel emptiness to her eyes. She stood on its step for a moment, not sure why, gazing at nothing in particular until something caught her eyes. On the small table next to the bed, the Hound's infamous helm was settled in such a way that she almost felt that it was staring straight back at her. Some incomprehensible impulse drove her toward it and she slowly walked in its direction. Carefully, she began caressing it with the tip of her fingers, tracing the lines of its mean-looking snarl.
"What are you doing?" the Hound's rasping voice resounded from behind her. Sansa jumped and turned around, flushed and as guilty-looking as if she had been caught stealing gold from his purse.
"I… I was searching for you," she answered, nervous and gawping.
Sandor snorted. "Well, here I am," he said mockingly, a smirk on his face as he slowly approached her.
His voice sounded queer, Sansa noticed, even his walk was somewhat less assured than usual. He… he looks drunk! she realised with stupefaction, eyes grown wide. Had he been drinking all night? She instinctively took a step backward, almost falling over the bed when she bumped into it.
Her evident consternation appeared to amuse him. "Never seen a drunken man before, little bird?" he scoffed, sniggering roughly. "You were looking for me, weren't you?" the man added, suddenly serious. "Speak," he ordered dryly, slowly stepping toward her.
Sansa's bottom lip trembled for an instant but then she took a deep breath and gathered her courage. "Sandor, please! Don't be angry… I'm so sorry for yesterday, I-"
"Stop that, Sansa," he cut her, face darkening and voice as sharp as valyrian steel. "You know you don't have a single fucking thing to reproach yourself for."
They were now less than an arm's length from each other and Sansa could smell the wine on his breath. It didn't repel her though; all she desired was to jump into his arms but she was too frightened that he might reject her. "But then… why did you leave so abruptly?" she asked instead in a tremulous whisper.
Jaw clenched, Sandor glared down at her, mouth twitching slightly and eyes narrowed with contempt. They both stood in place for a long and awkward moment until the Hound finally broke the silence with a grunt and shook his head. "Let's forget about that bloody affair, girl. We need be going now," he hissed, irritation plain, before he walked away from Sansa and went to grab his helm.
Without thinking, the girl threw herself at him, hands clutching at his armour. "No, Sandor! Please, listen to me!" she cried out.
Eyes wide, the Hound stared down at her with evident shock. "Hush, girl! Do you want to alert the whole buggering castle or what?" he rasped lowly, hands raised to her shoulders, more to push her away than to comfort her. "What would the Braxs think if they caught you clinging at me like that?" he asked, his fingers digging painfully into her upper arms as he kept her at a safe distance from him.
Sansa didn't know how to answer. She was shocked by the intensity of her own response and felt pathetic for acting so very unladylike, but at the same time the pang in her heart was so agonizing that she had had no way to control herself. Shame was creeping up on her now and her cheeks were burning red. Sansa dared not look at Sandor just then; she kept her gaze lowered, willing the warm tears that were pooling in her eyes to stay in place but it was no use of course.
Sighing deeply, the Hound appeared to relax. He snorted and began talking again, this time less harshly. "Look at you, crying again," he muttered with some annoyance as he removed his hands from Sansa's arms. Warm calloused fingers brushed against her face and the young girl instantly jerked her head up, her eyes popping open. "Shhh, you'll be fine, little bird. No need to weep. I'm bringing you back home, remember?" Sandor murmured flatly, a mix of resignation, mockery and gentleness in his voice while drying the wetness on her cheeks.
The gesture was everything Sansa had hoped for ever since yesterday when he had left her room but instead of giving her strength, it broke her down completely and her quiet tears abruptly morphed into sobs. "Oh, Sandor!" she cried as she reached for him. The Hound didn't reject her this time. His arms went snaking around her, one circling her waist, the other grabbing her over the shoulders, hand in her hair. They stayed like that for a long, long time and didn't move so much as an inch until their peace was abruptly disturbed by the sound of footstep resounding in the corridor. Immediately, the Hound pushed Sansa from him and swept his gaze around himself as if he was hoping for a way out. There weren't any, evidently and thus he went to retrieve his helm instead.
"Seven bloody Hells," he hissed between his teeth just before the door opened.
The same retainer they had met on the road the previous day appeared on its step. His eyes grew wide when his stare fell on Sansa but he didn't dare say a word about the impropriety of the situation. "Everything is set, Clegane. We're all ready to go," he declared uneasily after a moment of hesitation.
"That's good," the Hound answered without real enthusiasm. His features were unreadable when he turned toward Sansa. "Come, girl. Let's not lose more time."
Too shaken to disobey, Sansa wordlessly followed. Anyhow, she really couldn't talk before this stranger. What must he be thinking? she wondered, horrified.
Four men were waiting for them in the yard apart from Lord Richard when they arrived. Todd, the retainer that had just surprised them was also to be part of their escort and thus they would be seven in total including Sansa. Now, I truly won't have any chance to speak to Sandor again, she realised with apprehension, struggling to keep calm as she ought to.
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Lady Sansa, although I didn't have the honour to speak to you very much. Perhaps one day, when the war is over, we'll find an occasion to meet again under better circumstances," Lord Brax declared pleasantly.
"Perhaps. Farewell, my lord," she answered humbly, eyes lowered.
"Farewell, Lady Sansa," the man replied, kissing her hand.
Without a word of warning, Sandor slid his hands around Sansa's waist and lifted her onto the back of the horse the Braxs were lending her. She tried to catch his eyes as he did so but he didn't so much as glance back at her. Biting her lip, the girl was beginning to lose hope that he would ever give her a single sign that he cared for her again when she felt one of his hands linger against her side and discreetly stroke her there. His fingers were gone before Sansa had the time to smile but the gesture was enough to warm her heart and give her a whole new strength. She watched the Hound with emotion as he jumped on Stranger's saddle and a moment later, their group was out of the yard and moving toward the Golden Tooth in silence.
It had been three long days of intense riding but the last part of Sansa's journey across the realm was now almost complete. With every passing minute, the Golden Tooth was getting nearer and the grins of the men of Sansa's escort broader. Only an hour separated them from the place, or so the Braxs' retainers kept repeating with newfound enthusiasm. Sansa herself was torn between excitement at seeing her family and intense anxiety about what was to become of her protector. She and Sandor still hadn't had the occasion to clear up their disagreement and concur on a plan to follow once they got to the exchange point. On the other hand, she had caught him staring at her more than once, mostly late at night when everyone was asleep and they even had shared a few secret touches but that was certainly not enough to reassure her completely about his intentions. What if he fled before she got the chance to plead in his favour? He had to trust her, trust that she could convince her mother and brother to give him a place among them but how could she make him understand when they never had a moment to themselves? That was her torment and she had had no cure against it ever since they left Hornvale.
Now, each minute was stumbling into the next and the pressure was building in her like a fire ready to implode. Notwithstanding all that, Sansa had managed to construct some sort of a plan. It wasn't a very elaborate one - she had never been the crafty type - but with the help of the gods she infinitely counted upon she had good hopes that everything would work out fine. After all, simplicity was the most honest of allies, her father had once told her. Rapidity would nevertheless be needed in order to succeed and therefore as soon as she got to the meeting place, Sansa would immediately seek her mother and beg her for a private moment to speak. She knew the words and arguments that would persuade her best and had recited them inwardly more times than she could count. Wouldn't the Hound be an asset for the whole North with his inside knowledge of the enemy? Wouldn't he be the fiercest protector a maiden could ever dream of having? Almost obsessively, Sansa kept reconstructing the sentences she would use and replaying the oncoming events in her mind as she figured they should take place, brooding over them, turning them upside down… it was getting dizzying as much as it was recurrent but there was no stopping her. Her mind was spinning with anticipation.
"We're getting there, I think," a man suddenly declared as Sansa was trying to figure out for the thousandth time how her lady mother would react to her request.
Too distracted by her musing, Sansa had not seen time fly and so she instantly jumped into her saddle and anxiously peered before her when she heard the call. Squinting against the sun, she glimpsed a gathering of soldiers hidden behind a line of trees. They were still far but not enough that she could not discern the group. They were less than a hundred to be sure; still, their number was imposing in contrast to her own meagre escort. As was to be expected of a secret mission such as theirs, no banners were visible anywhere but there was no mistaking that Sansa and the Braxs' men had reached their objective. Here we are, she reflected, her excitement clouded by no negligible measure of dread. Taking a deep breath, she jerked her head around to gaze one last time at Sandor. If she had hoped to gather some courage from him, she was cruelly disillusioned; the man didn't as much as glance her way. She would need to find the strength she desperately needed inside herself and nowhere else.
It took less than a minute before Sansa's group, no matter how small, was spotted by the larger one. Hostile gazes turned toward them, quickly followed by a general movement of the crowd. In a heartbeat, they were surrounded almost threateningly by the large and noisy party and Sansa - although those people were her own - felt as insecure as if she were a Westerlander herself and about to be taken by foes. The din was overwhelming; horses were snorting, neighing and turning around nervously while their masters tried to control them with violent pulls of their reins. Confusion was mingling with the shattering impression of entrapment in the most unpleasant fashion and Sansa was starting to feel as panicked as a caged animal. A caged bird, she distractedly corrected herself. Thankfully, not a man made to attack and it became clear after several moments of fear that no ill would befall them. Nevertheless, the atmosphere was thick with animosity; the two groups of men were shamelessly gauging the force of the other as any mortal enemies would do. After what appeared like an eternity, the movement of the press receded and all the beasts became quiet again. Every man was silent as a grave and waiting. Where are they? Sansa wondered, while sweeping her gaze over the soldiers in desperate search of her mother or brother. Fear that these weren't her family's bannermen after all and that they had fallen into a trap was just beginning to creep over her when the crowd opened to let a small group of riders pass. In its center, a middle-aged man garbed in black scale armour stood proud and tall over his mount.
"Sansa!" he exclaimed with undeniable relief as he halted his horse. "You don't know me, but I've heard plenty of you. You probably also have a notion of who I am…"
She did. The Blackfish! Sansa realised, smiling genuinely for the first time on that was undoubtedly her great uncle; her mother had told her so much about him! She had to hold herself back from jumping from her horse and running to him even though she had never met him before. As much as the notion of family was enticing after moons of loneliness at the Red Keep, where were her mother and brother?
"You must be my great uncle, Brynden Tully. I know the love my lady mother has for you, but… if you don't mind me saying so, I can't help but wonder where she is."
The Blackfish smiled sadly at her. "A lot of things have taken place lately. A few of which I prefer not to discuss before your escort. Anyhow, I think I can inform you of my brother– your grandfather's - sickness. He's rapidly perishing and soon the Stranger will come for him. Lady Catelyn didn't have the heart to leave Riverrun in such times although she truly wished to be here for you. Your brother the king was also unfortunately not able to make it but they both sent me to welcome you back. I hope you're not too disappointed. They nonetheless should be all in Riverrun when we get there and you can rest assured that they'll be eagerly waiting for your return."
"Oh, I see," Sansa whispered, barely masking her dejection. Life was as it was and she could surely understand that other more important matters had manifested themselves. Still this was unsettling. For so long she had dreamed of that reunion and never had it occurred to her that her mother wouldn't be there to witness it. She was about to accept the situation, when her eyes widened in horror. But then if my mother's not here, how will I ever manage to plead on Sandor's behalf?!
"This is all good," yelled Todd from behind her before she even had a chance to utter a single word. "However, where's Jaime Lannister? No exchange can occur without him!"
"You're right," answered the Blackfish with some annoyance. "Bring the Kingslayer!" he ordered wryly while turning his horse around to face his men.
The crowd opened again and another group of riders strode toward them, a mounted prisoner held tightly in its center. Sansa had seen the man before; he had always been so beautiful and graceful to her, the very image of the knights from the songs. Now, he was dirty and ragged, a sandy blond beard covering his face but he managed to keep some grace and dignity, even tied to his horse as he was.
"Here he is. All in one piece. You can even count his teeth if you like," Brynden Tully mockingly proposed for everyone to hear. The Westerlanders were grinning, evidently pleased and therefore, the Blackfish continued. "I surmise everyone is satisfied. We may proceed and go our separate ways if you all agree," he added, looking around.
At that moment, Sansa's mouth opened to protest but the words were stuck in her throat. What am I to do to stop this?! she wondered in utter alarm. She couldn't supplicate anyone. She had never even encountered her great uncle once before. How could she ever convince him in such a situation? All her carefully planned out schemes were crumbing once again.
The Tully men were starting to push Jaime Lannister forward and Sansa's escort was approaching her when a shout was heard from behind them.
"Hold on!" a hoarse voice yelled. Everyone froze and turned around to see the Hound advancing toward the Blackfish. "I was asked by King Joffrey to bring Lady Sansa to her family, which had meant her mother or her brother but not you, Blackfish."
Sansa's great uncle's face twisted in displeasure. "The Kingslayer's here and we've got Lady Sansa, so I don't see your complaint, Hound," he snapped, obviously annoyed. People were whispering around them, some obviously content to witness the altercation, some anxious that the exchange was about to sour.
"I had a mission. Bring the Stark girl to her brother or mother, they told me. He's not here, neither is she. I can't let Lady Sansa go in these conditions."
The Blackfish sighed, disbelief plain. "So what are we to do then? Wait for them to appear? Send them a bird so that they come?!"
The Hound's mouth twitched but apart from that, his face was as expressionless as a rock. "Perhaps. I don't mind how it takes place really but I won't let her go to you nor to any of your buggers here. I need her mother, or the bloody king in the North and naught else. No arguments."
"You're overzealous, Clegane," Jaime Lannister managed to interject. "I can't imagine the king or my queenly sister truly care about those details," he said before he got shut down by his guards.
"The Kingslayer's right, Clegane," Brynden Tully agreed, threat in his voice. "This argument is ridiculous."
Snorting, the Hound narrowed his eyes. "I'm following orders, that's all and I don't ever question them. So, where are Lady Stark and that prodigal son of hers, tell me please?" he asked as he seized Sansa's reins to make certain no one would try to steal her away.
With a deep sigh, Sansa's great uncle glanced around him to find accord among his group. "As you probably have already figured, they won't be coming here any time soon." Evidently irritated the man continued, "So what are we to do? Bring you to Riverrun with the rest of us so that you can witness the Lady Sansa's poignant reunion with her mother?!" he jested.
The Hound didn't flinch. "If that's what it takes," he answered flatly.
"I'm not going back there, Clegane! Stop this foolishness!" Jaime Lannister complained before his guards silenced him again.
"This is none of your business, Kingslayer," Sansa heard one of them snarl at him.
For a long moment, the Blackfish glowered to himself but then he muttered with obvious lack of conviction, "If that's what it takes then come with us, Hound."
Jamie Lannister's eyes grew wide with dread at that instant and he would undoubtedly have groused again if he had not been surrounded by such an unfriendly convoy.
"Well then, let's not lose any time," the Blackfish growled. "I do hope your men have all they need because we don't have a single drop of water or crumb of bread to spare," Brynden Tully hissed, glaring at Sandor.
The burnt corner of his mouth curling in contempt, the Hound snorted. "None of us here are beggars so don't you lose time worrying. Anyhow, my men won't be following us," he objected. "They'll be escorting Ser Jaime back to Casterly Rock and I'll be following you to Riverrun by myself and that will be it. Does that sound fair enough to you, Blackfish?"
The silence on the field was overpowering at that moment; Sansa could hear birds chirping in the distance. No one dared to speak, not even Jaime Lannister although his guards had loosened their grip on him.
"Well, this is certainly queer but I won't object… although if you truly want to travel with us, Clegane, we won't abide you being armed among us." The Blackfish said the words threateningly, approaching Sandor as he spoke them. "Surrender your weapons, Hound, and you can follow. Otherwise, you can continue on your way toward the Westerlands with these folks."
Sansa stared at the Hound, too stunned by the turn of events to even consider if she was being improper. There was no doubting that Sandor had created such a spectacle only to stay with her, was there? Her nerves were on the verge of breaking down. He truly had done all that only to give her the opportunity to plead with her mother on his behalf… She was moved to tears at the thought but still, would he agree to surrender his sword? That was not likely; Sandor was a proud warrior and had always been armed ever since she met him. Sansa was so nervous at that instant; she felt as if her heart was about to jump out of her throat.
For a long time, the Hound glowered at her great uncle with evident animosity, clearly uncomfortable with the turn of events but after an interminable wait, he sighed and reached for his sword. "If those are the terms, I'll take them. I have no choice anyhow." He unbuckled his sword belt and handed it to the Blackfish. "Take it before I change my mind." The older man immediately seized the weapon and passed it to one of the men beside him. "You'll want my bloody dagger as well, I reckon? Here, take it," Sandor snarled as he tossed the blade.
"You have anything else, Clegane?" Brynden Tully asked. Without even waiting for an answer, he sent one of his crew to go through the Hound's saddlebag and then went as far as to require that he get off his stallion and be searched from top to bottom.
By some miracle, Sandor didn't complain throughout the whole process although it was plain as day that he wanted naught else than to kill the man who had been given the strenuous duty. He didn't though and only once it was all over with did Sansa's heart begin beating normally again. Instinctively, her lips curled into the smallest of smiles. The Hound caught it as he glanced at her; his eyes gleamed with something like resentment then but Sansa could also see longing shining in them. If only she could tell him how grateful she was, kiss him and hold him to show him what a good choice he had made… unfortunately it was impossible; all she could do was politely watch him as he jumped on Stranger's back.
"We wish you the best, Lady Sansa," Todd stated, head bowed before the rest of his group saluted her one by one.
Sandor only nodded at them when they gave him their farewells. The men then went to Jaime Lannister and untied him from his horse.
"So you won't be coming with us, Clegane," Joffrey's uncle said as he rubbed his sore wrist where the rope had been. "Be sure to stop by Casterly Rock once you're done delivering the young Lady Stark. I'd definitely benefit from a decent jousting partner if I wish to get some of my form back before I return to King's Landing."
"Aye, I'll stop by," the Hound answered with nonchalance before turning his horse around. Facing Brynden Tully, he rasped, "You want to sleep here tonight, Blackfish?"
The man didn't reply. Instead he wordlessly gazed around him and everyone began moving in silent understanding. A moment later, they were all on their way again.
Here it is, Sansa breathed to herself. Riverrun, the seat of House Tully was right in front of her. Sansa had heard so much of the place; in truth, setting eyes on the proud castle had been one of her lifelong dreams and the sight was definitely impressive. The location was even more spectacular than she had expected. The way the fortress took root in the lively flow of water, stone rising from the river itself was breathtaking. It had taken about a sennight for them to get here, a sennight during which Sansa had gotten to know her great uncle slightly better but during which she also had not had even a single chance to speak to Sandor. The Hound hadn't travelled by her side; he had been kept at the other end of the column and had always been surrounded by the same group of men that had guarded Jaime Lannister. The only element that differentiated his situation from the one of their previous prisoner was that he had not been tied to his horse but he was no more than a captive really. The man wasn't free to move about as he willed and Sansa had felt her throat tighten every time she had reflected upon it. Everything will change very soon, she mused as she stared at Riverrun with both hope and apprehension.
As they steadily approached the castle, Sansa could discern men watching them from over the high towers and then suddenly, the great drawbridge was brought down. A moment later, a group of people appeared over the wooden structure. Between them, Sansa noticed a tall woman, auburn hair flying in the wind.
"Mother!" she gasped under her breath. Without thinking, she brought her horse to a gallop, not able to resist the impulse.
The woman ran toward her. When she was near enough, Sansa jumped from her mount and sprinted to her.
"Sansa!" her lady mother cried.
Was all of this truly taking place? Was this one of Sansa's foolish dreams again? She was probably about to wake in her bed in Maegor's Holdfast.
"Oh my little girl!" her mother cried as she slid her arms around her.
I'm not dreaming… Sansa realised in a confusing mix of emotions where supreme happiness ultimately won over the rest.
Wetness was covering her cheeks but that didn't matter. Her mother was holding her, tenderly caressing her hair with motherly love and her sweet and comforting scent was making Sansa feel right at home, at long last! Everything would be right from now on. Everything!
After a long moment, they both loosened their embrace and her mother jerked her head back to gaze at her. "You've grown so much, Sansa… Look at you!" she murmured, tears rolling down her cheeks.
She looks so much like me! Sansa realised. She had always known but seeing her again after so long truly made her notice the truth of it. I'm finally where I belong.
Overwhelmed as she had been by the reunion, Sansa hadn't even noticed that her brother had joined them.
"Sansa!" Robb exclaimed when he was near enough. The young girl instantly left her mother to jump into his arms.
Words were not needed; Sansa could read the love in his eyes. She had almost forgotten how it felt to be surrounded by family, by people who truly loved her and cared about her. They all stayed together, hugging one another in front of the castle for Sansa didn't know nor care how long but then the Blackfish spoke and reality cruelly returned to her.
"I'm happy to see you all reunited, my niece. The whole process has taken longer than we had planned but everything went well nonetheless," he said, addressing Lady Catelyn while smiling softly. As if he had suddenly remembered something unpleasant, Brynden Tully frowned and turned his horse around. "So, Hound. Are you satisfied?" he spat as he approached Sandor. Sansa instantly lost her smile.
The Hound and his guards were slowly nearing the Blackfish. Emotionlessly glancing at Sansa for a second, the man quickly averted his eyes. "Aye, I am," was his lone reply.
"You were with him, Sansa?" the girl's mother whispered in her ear while squeezing her arm as if she believed being with such a man was the worst ordeal imaginable.
Sansa nodded, feeling a pang go though her core. She desperately wanted to scream her love for him for everyone to witness at that very instant but knew how wrong that would've been. Tears pooled in her eyes as she realised just how difficult making her point would prove.
"It's all over now, don't you worry, my sweet daughter," Sansa's mother whispered softly, totally misunderstanding her distress.
No! It's nothing like that! Sansa longed to tell her but everything seemed so much more complicated than she had envisioned.
"Well then, you may go and rejoin your masters in King's Landing, or Casterly Rock where the Kingslayer is, for all it matters to me," the Blackfish told Sandor, disgust in his voice. "Where are the Hound's weapons?" he then asked one of his men.
"Wait!" Sansa heard herself protest. Everyone turned toward her. "He won't have any food left, I'm sure…" Shyness taking over her, she continued less loudly. "We can't let him go without giving him at least a few days to rest at the castle."
Both Robb and her mother gazed at her with doubt.
"Mother, I assure you he's been naught but good to me throughout our journey. It would be very ungrateful to let him go like this," Sansa pleaded. "Robb?" she added looking at her brother when she lost hope of swaying her mother. "He's harmless without his sword. I swear it."
"Harmless? The Hound?!" he exclaimed with a mirthless laugh. His stare gave no sign of ceding but as he gazed at his sister's resolute look, he finally yielded.
"Very well. We'll give him four days to rest and not one more." Sansa sighed in relief. "But that's all you'll get from us, Hound," Robb added, glaring at Sandor. "And don't you ever dare say the North has no mercy afterwards."
Narrowing his eyes in annoyance, Sandor nonetheless bowed his head slightly. "I won't ever say such, Your Grace."
Sansa breathed. That was as much as she could hope to get from the Hound. For now. I'll make him bend the knee to my brother. He'll do it once he understands that he'll get to stay by my side if he does. She would need to convince him first though; and her mother and brother as well. In four days anything was possible, wasn't it?