Hey everyone!

I knoooow, it's been so long seen I last updated! Almost two fucking months! I have a very good reason though: school of course (the bitch). Thankfully I'm done now and can return to my regular life of lazinessandwriting SanSan fics … Yeaaaah! :D

I had originally planned for this chapter to be much longer but decided to cut it in two and post this earlier. So this adds an extra chapter to the one remaining and therefore after this one, there should be about three other chapters.

I promise the next one won't take as long!

Sandor

I've been a fool, a fool all along, Sandor mused, hands clenched so tightly over the great balcony's railing that his knuckles had almost turned white. From where he stood, he could easily spy Sansa, smiling and giggling with a young northerner wench as she demurely sat in a sunny corner of the yard. Already forgotten your old, ugly hound, little bird? He snorted bitterly to himself, his gaze leaving her to fall over a group of young men instead. The buggers had kept turning up around the two girls throughout the afternoon and Sandor had had to hold himself back from striding down the stairs and killing the lot of them with his bare hands more times than he could count. He couldn't stand having to watch from afar as the little bird blushed and smiled so very shyly and sweetly while these lads filled her head with their empty talk. It used to be you she gave her laughter and attention to, dog, Sandor repeated to himself once more. Should he truly be surprised that she'd prefer these buggers to him? He didn't have much to offer, especially now that he was a deserter and he was ugly and coarse where his new rivals were good looking and refined. Good looking and refined, he mocked, a contemptuous sneer forming on his face. It won't serve them much if I change my mind and decide to kill them after all. Sandor could almost envision the ease with which he would disarm them, crush their pretty white teeth, cut their bowels open with their own weapons… It was all too tempting, however the King in the North had had the sense to burden Sandor with a group of seasoned warriors for guards. Furtively, the man glanced in their direction. The four of them were leaning against the wall, distractedly watching him but Sandor was not fooled; they'd cut his throat the minute he made a wrong move. All the better. I'm not likely to fight off each and every bloody retainer and soldier that crowds Riverrun anyhow and there'd be no sense in killing just a few.

For the last three days, Sandor had wandered with no purpose throughout the castle, waiting with no hope for something that would never happen. The little bird's promises are worth no more than their chirping, the man concluded bitterly. Only halfwits listened to the songs of birds, believing some truth lay hidden there. Was he really no better than a village idiot to have fallen for such a mirage? Becoming her buggering sworn shield. Did I truly let the fucking derisory dreams of a maiden contaminate me? As evening approached and light grew fainter, Sandor's contempt for himself was gradually turning into wrath at the whole world but he strangely couldn't seem to extend his loathing to Sansa, although she was certainly the cause of the torture he had to endure. On the contrary, his obsession for the girl was apparently getting stronger with each passing minute and he doubted that anything would ever stop that. Even now, he couldn't refrain from drinking in the sight of her…

The little bird was garbed in a pretty gown, blue and red with some silver embroidery here and there. Sandor had not an ounce of interest in fancy cloth or any of the useless tat women were so passionate about but he could appreciate a dress when it fitted nicely, especially if it was the little bird's curves that were hugged so perfectly. I'd best stop staring at her, or else my valiant guards will soon start wondering at my interest in their lady's daughter, Sandor reluctantly decided, although he scarcely could think of anything else he might do to pass the time.

The chamber he had been lent was just a few steps from where he stood and when he was inside, he only had to open its door to see the yard again. Lying on the pallet, the outdoor sounds were so clear that with his eyes shut, Sandor might have believed he was actually sleeping in the middle of the yard. The previous morning, he had even been awoken by the girl's laughter… the place was no safe haven, far from it, but where was he to go? At least once inside he wouldn't truly see her and perhaps if he drank enough wine, he'd manage to forget she was so near. You're more naïve than the damned girl if you believe that, dog, Sandor scornfully thought to himself before abruptly turning around and heading for his room anyway. His guards lazily moved aside to let him pass, exchanging glares with him as they did so. Spitting on the floor beside them, Sandor narrowed his eyes at them, opened the door and clattered into the dark chamber. With more force than necessary, he slammed the door behind him but for all the noise it made, it only rebounded against the threshold and stayed ajar. Cursing, Sandor pushed it shut more carefully this time, wishing he could lock himself in but his guards had deemed it safer to remove the bolt. How the hells is a locked door supposed to represent any threat? Sandor wondered with the same annoyance he felt anytime his gaolers were on his mind. The bastards were probably enjoying the control they exerted over him; having held such power over the Hound – even for just a few days - wasn't something many could boast about and they were apparently making the most of it.

Sitting on the edge of the pallet, Sandor grabbed the wineskin that waited on the small table beside it and took a long, thirsty sip from it. At least the Tullys had been generous where Dornish red was concerned; their servants had stashed more bottles in his chamber than a normal man could hope to drink in a fortnight. Was his love of the bottle that renowned? Or mayhap, it was the little bird who had demanded those to be brought up… The little bird… There she was again, always in the back of his mind. Would he ever be rid of her?

You stupid dog. You've done everything you possibly could never to forget her and now you pity yourself? No one coerced you to accept that buggering mission to deliver the girl to her family but you nevertheless volunteered right away, too eager to be the one she'd be thankful to, all the while dreading the moment she'd fly too far from your grasp, that you'd lose the hold you had on her, no matter how insignificant it had been. The problem wasn't so much that he had desired the girl and found a way he might be alone with her; there was certainly naught surprising about a man jumping at such a perfect occasion to trap his , what bothered him was the weakness the girl had so easily uncovered in him. After giving himself all the trouble he had, you'd think a man like Sandor - who lusted for a maiden so high above his own station - would gladly rape the girl or kidnap her once the moment was right. It was what logic clearly commanded after all but for some inconceivable reason, he had preferred to let her lead him and to respect her fucking wishes.

Would she be thankful for Sandor's twice damnable restraint when her buggering husband broke that precious maidenhead of hers a few years from now? He'd been on the verge of taking her so many times… Why didn't he do it? Why? He should've been the one to tear the bloody piece of flesh, not the faceless, nameless high lord she'd end up with.

Perhaps following in Gregor's footsteps would've been a good plan in the end. Killing and raping was the way to go. Sandor's brother would never have stopped himself from taking what he desired and he assuredly never had to suffer and regret so fucking much. Hear me brother? I envy you now, Sandor admitted, jaw clenched so tightly it almost hurt.

Well, there was still wine and plenty of it. He'd be drinking until dawn came and then, he'd leave that gods forsaken continent and the nightmare would finally be over. Or perhaps, it will only truly begin…

Sansa

The day had been a lovely one and while the air was definitely getting chillier, the sun had been warm enough most of the time that Sansa hadn't even needed a cloak as long as she stayed out of the shade. She had made the most of the afternoon by lazing in the yard and she felt invigorated for it, like a flower that required the sun to bloom. It was nice being at Riverrun; the castle would never be home as Winterfell had been but it had quickly stolen its own place in her heart. She liked the soothing sound that resounded from the Tumblestone and Red Fork rivers as they collided with the high walls, the eternal mist that flew around them, reflecting the sunbeams in hundreds of tiny rainbows and the fresh smell of water that filled the air. Most of all, however, Sansa cherished the love she was surrounded with. Naught had ever felt so right… although, there was still something lacking. Sandor, she missed him so much! The uncertainty of his situation and the hostile way in which he was treated were perhaps the only clouds darkening her happiness these days but it was far from a negligible one. The knowledge that the man she loved would inevitably be chased away if she didn't act shortly was omnipresent – invading Sansa's every thought. It was always in the back of her mind, altering the purity of her joy like a veil of nervousness through which she had to gaze at the world. Notwithstanding all that, or mayhap for that exact reason, Sansa had been unable to broach the subject with her mother and brother until now.

Time had flown so fast! During the first three nights, Sansa and her mother and brother had tried to make up for the lost time; they had talked for hours, laughed but most of all, cried in each other's arms. The murder of her father, the loss of her two younger brothers, the havoc at Winterfell, the disappearance of Arya… all of these cruel events they had felt compelled to go through once again, however painful the process had been. It wasn't the same though, to relive these excruciating episodes with her mother and Robb as both of them understood firsthand the distress Sansa had had to go through. The same way the wounded man cries in pain when the healer reopens his infected injury, Sansa had suffered while she reawakened the horrific memories that crowded her heart but as flesh needs to be freed of pus in order to heal, her soul had required that she share its ache to be liberated from its shadows. As a result, Sansa had quickly regained some measure of the peace she had once known before she fell into the Lannisters' claws but the process had been terribly draining. Every day since her arrival, as night came, she had fallen asleep in her mother's chamber, exhausted by the strength of her own emotions.

In the midst of all this, Sansa hadn't forgotten about Sandor but she had always believed it wiser to wait until an appropriate time to bring him up, only the moment had never seemed right and now, only one night remained until the Hound had to go. I have no choice now; I need to act tonight, Sansa realised for the tenth time since morning, heart pounding furiously. Only thinking about the upcoming discussion she would need to share with her family made her shiver with anticipation and anxiety but she was determined not to let Sandor down.

On several occasions since their arrival, she had glimpsed the man staring at her from afar, surrounded by his guards. As always, he had worn his customary scowl, however as Sansa had learned to read him to some extent throughout their journey, she had had no doubt that he had wished naught more than to reach for her in those moments, to touch her and kiss her. It had been impossible of course; all of Sandor's movements had been closely watched from the moment he had stepped through Riverrun's entrance. Needless to say, no contact had been allowed between them and it was driving Sansa crazy. She missed him so much! It was even more unbearable that he was never truly far from her. Even now, she could see him wandering over the balcony that circled around the yard and although the man kept his eyes averted most of the time, Sansa had felt his gaze linger on her so often throughout the afternoon… it was insufferable! At least Dacey Mormont, a daughter of Maege Mormont, was there to keep her company. The older girl and she had met on the very first day she had arrived at the castle and they had bonded immediately. Sansa admired her ways; while Dacey was as accomplished and refined a lady as Sansa, that didn't stop her from wearing breeches and practicing sword fighting in the yard a few hours every day. Arya would have loved her! A lady warrior; beautiful and elegant while fierce and strong. If only Sansa could be more like her…

A group of young men had spent the last hour circling around her and Dacey and although Sansa was flattered by their obvious interest, none of them were a match for the Hound in her eyes. There was a time when she would have been charmed by their handsome looks and sweet words but now, all she could do was compare them to Sandor. Small and weak: that's how they looked next to him. How could she ever be satiated with boys such as these now that she had known a man as tall, strong and… manly as the Hound? Nevertheless, even as she reflected on their lack of muscles, Sansa smiled at the young men. It was only courteous after all.

"Your lady mother has arrived, Sansa," Dacey said while Sansa was unconsciously trying to find Sandor with her gaze. He was gone from the balcony, she realised with a pang.

"Really?" she replied, lowering her eyes to find her mother instead.

"Sansa! Supper will be ready soon," Lady Catelyn called joyfully when she was near enough. "Let's not make Robb wait."

Throughout the last three days, the three of them had dined together every night in Mother's chambers – sometimes joined by Jeyne, Robb's new wife - and Sansa had cherished every moment of it. This evening would be much different though as Sansa had an extra burden on her shoulders. Nevertheless, she smiled while she stood up to meet her mother.

"I'm coming, Mother!" she replied. Glancing back, she saluted her new friend. "Good evening, Dacey!"

The tall girl grinned and waved at her.

Wrapping a hand around hers, Lady Catelyn kissed Sansa's cheek and led her toward the stairs. A moment later, they reached her chambers and joined Robb who stood from his seat when he saw them. He's so tall and handsome! Sansa reflected while embracing him. She still couldn't believe how much he had grown since she had left her home more than a year ago but then again, she had changed in many ways too.

A moment later, they were all settled around the table, eating their meal in a comfortable silence but Sansa couldn't help feeling anxiety build in her. It's now or never, she kept repeating to herself although no words seemed to find their way past her lips.

"Are you going to be ready for our departure for the Twins five days from now?" Robb muttered as he cut some venison from the large platter that sat in the centre of the dinner table.

"I could leave tomorrow if you wished, Robb," Sansa replied, eyes lowered to her meal. The subject of her mother's younger brother's upcoming wedding to a Frey maiden had been on everyone's lips ever since her arrival.

"I'm very sorry that we can't stay here a little while longer as you have just arrived from such a long journey but some things simply can't wait in times of war… you could stay here if you preferred though; I already told you-"

"No, Robb!" Sansa cut him, forgetting her manners for once. "I want to go with you and Mother and follow you to Winterfell afterwards. I miss our home so much!"

"Sansa, I told you before I'd prefer you to stay at Riverrun," Lady Catelyn objected. "You wouldn't be alone. Your great uncle will stay here, as well as Robb's wife-"

"But you wouldn't be with me! I'm tired of being left behind! I want to be with my family from now on," Sansa stated with more vigour than she had intended. Nevertheless, she kept her eyes raised to challenge them to object.

No one said a word. The discussion had been held before. Although both Robb and Lady Catelyn resented Sansa's decision, they also evidently respected her newfound self-assurance. She was a woman grown now and had a right to decide what risks she might take, especially when it involved her loyalty to her kin.

After a long moment of silence, Robb gave Sansa a small, sad smile. "You do realise that the journey north won't be an easy one? Of course, you and Mother will be kept far from the heat of the battle; however they'll be dangers everywhere. The Ironborn will surround us from the moment we reach the Neck."

"You already told me all about it, Robb," Sansa reminded him, stubbornly folding her arms. "I want to be with you when you get to Winterfell and nowhere else."

"So be it then," the young man sighed, resigned at last. "I'll make certain you two are surrounded by an army of guards at all times though. I won't risk your safety more than necessary," he added while severely eyeing both Sansa and their mother.

Apparently as amused as she was annoyed by the show of authority, the latter set her lips in a tight smile. "I'm very touched by your concern, Robb," she said, rolling her eyes. "It's very sweet of you to worry so much for your old mother."

The retort seemed to embarrass Robb although he didn't utter a word and only returned his attention to his meal. Sansa made to do the same but the meagre appetite she had had when she came to table had now completely vanished. She felt as if her stomach was twisting against itself. Didn't Robb mention he'd very soon assure her protection by surrounding her with an army of guards? Sansa knew only of one man she truly felt safe with. Sandor… I have to bring the matter up… now! There was no other alternative, save for losing the very last chance she had to ensure that her man would follow her on the long journey North, Sansa told herself while nervously biting her bottom lip.

Taking a deep breath, she braced herself and raised her gaze to her mother. Now! Say what you have to! she adjured herself but naught came out.

"Robb, my son, do you think Jeyne might be with child by now?" Lady Catelyn asked, breaking the silence that had fallen upon them while pouring some sauce over her turnip. "Although I think it for the best that she stays behind at Riverrun, it does worry me that you don't have an heir to protect your claim-"

"Mother!" Robb exclaimed, evidently irritated by the intrusion. His cheeks were a boyish red and Sansa would have smiled at the sight if she had not been so preoccupied. "You know I have no knowledge of such things. Only time will tell but as you know all too well, we have none of it." Scowling, the young man looked aside and took a long sip out of his wine goblet.

It was already almost pitch dark outside, Sansa realised with dread as she glanced furtively out the window. Now, I have to act. NOW! she repeated to herself once more, her body as agitated as if she was about to jump from a precipice.

"Mother. Robb," she heard herself say.

They both turned around to look at her.

Sansa swallowed. "I… I wanted to talk to you about something…" she managed to breathe, her sweaty hands clenching against one another in her lap. "The Hound… he has protected me all along our journey through the Westerlands. I… I came to appreciate him. He told me that he had no intention of returning to King's Landing once his mission was over." Sansa could see her mother's and brother's expression darkening but she continued nonetheless. "Perhaps he could stay with us. I know he'd be an asset to the North; he has knowledge none of us have and his skills as a warrior can't be denied-"

"Sansa, this makes no sense," Robb cut her off, brow furrowed. "The Hound is one of the Lannisters' most renowned and faithful servants. Why should we trust him? Why would you want one of them to follow us when you've told us how much you suffered in King's Landing?"

"You don't understand! The Hound was never truly one of them," Sansa snapped without thinking before biting her tongue when she noticed the surprise in her mother's eyes. Breathing in, she resumed in a calmer tone. "When I was in the capital, he always tried to help me as much as he could. I already told you about it yesterday, remember?" On the previous evening, she had vaguely mentioned some of the things Sandor had done for her but both her brother and mother had seemed sceptical and therefore she hadn't insisted further. Now though, it was imperative that Sansa persist. "Without the advice Sandor Clegane has given me, I don't know if I'd have survived. He even went so far as to lie to support me on a few occasions… And… and he also made certain to be the one to bring me to you. He was the only one I could travel safely with and he knew it!"

At that, Sansa's mother uttered a soft mirthless laugh. Did I say something wrong? the girl wondered, heart beating even faster.

Smiling wryly, the woman finally explained herself after a long, nerve-racking moment. "Sansa, as much as this is surprising –especially to me - I believe your word on that. You're a sweet and innocent girl but still, you're smart enough that I don't trust you would speak so of the Hound if he hadn't acted properly with you."

A deep blush crept over Sansa's cheeks at the implication. There hadn't been anything very proper about Sandor's actions with her lately. Only, Lady Catelyn would of course never suspect that her sweet daughter might have actually enjoyed being corrupted by the former Lannister dog…

"I have to admit that this is reassuring as I feared the worst when I saw you arrive with him," the woman continued. "To send a maiden alone, through the woods, with the likes of him… that's beyond me! The Lannisters really have no ethics!" A harsh spark shining in her eyes, she looked around her, shaking her head.

"They don't," Sansa agreed, jumping on the opportunity her mother was unknowingly offering her to emphasise Sandor's quality. "The Hound has far more morals than his ex-masters will ever have. Joffrey sent me with his sworn shield, most likely thrilled at the idea that he wouldn't treat me well but he misjudged him. Sandor Clegane is a good man no matter what the whole of Westeros thinks. The Lannisters are largely responsible for his infamous reputation, especially Joffrey, who needed arms strong enough to carry out his orders. However, the Hound has grown to disapprove of his king's building cruelty and decided he'd rather flee and begin anew elsewhere."

A hush fell over the chamber and for a long moment, both Sansa's mother and brother studied her with open curiosity. Shivering with anticipation, the young girl kept her gaze lowered as she waited for a reply. Still, she couldn't help spying on them out of the corner of her eye and trying to figure what might be going through their heads.

Just as Sansa was starting to believe that she would never get an answer, Robb finally spoke. "And whose idea was this? Was it the Hound who asked you to find him a place with us?" he inquired, frowning.

"Of course not!" Sansa instantly retorted, afraid of where her brother was planning to take this. "His intentions are to cross the Narrow Sea and start a new life in Essos. I only thought that after all he has done for me, offering to let him join us was the right thing to do."

His lips twisting into a tired half-smile, Robb sighed deeply but then eyed his sister with kindness. "Well, if he truly helped you as you insist he has - and even when you were still in King's Landing, I'm willing to be more generous with him. I'll give the Hound some gold tomorrow before he leaves. That way, he won't lack anything until he reaches the Free Cities."

As he spoke, Lady Catelyn nodded in approval. Seeming satisfied, Robb rubbed his hands together as if the matter was settled before seizing his fork and lowering his eyes to his plate again.

The notion that the issue that meant most to her heart might be so easily dismissed froze Sansa to the bone; she felt as if her heart had been filled with ice colder than the Wall itself. Eyes widened in horror, her breath caught in her throat as she heard her brother's decision. Her reaction must not have been very discreet for both her brother and mother instantly turned their gazes on her but just as Sansa was starting to fear they'd guessed the truth of her feelings for Sandor, Robb relaxed and began laughing.

"There is something very absurd about a young, harmless maiden such as you worrying about a ruthless warrior like the Hound," he explained, glancing at Lady Catelyn who shared a slightly amused look with him. In the same teasing tone, he added, "Don't you lose sleep over him, Sansa. A man of his sort shouldn't have much difficulty finding work in Essos. He'll be just fine."

Although Sansa knew Robb meant no ill with his comment, she couldn't stop the heat from invading her face. She didn't like being mocked, especially as the subject was so sensitive to her. Still, as she couldn't very well admit her love for the Hound to her family, she figured the best course of action was to play on the thankfulness and silly protectiveness they seemed to believe she felt for the man.

"That's not what worries me, Robb! I just don't like the thought of him going all the way back to the East coast in search of a port with ships bound for Essos. It's war! It's too dangerous-"

"Too dangerous?! By the gods, Sansa! He's the Hound!" Robb exclaimed in disbelief.

"But he'll be alone!" Sansa pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Sansa, but there's naught I can do about it."

Unwilling to accept his response, Sansa kept her gaze on her brother and they both shared a long, stubborn look until the latter snorted in shock. "You don't expect me to lend him an escort, I hope? Each of my men are counted-"

"No! All I'm asking of you is that you let him stay with us! You just said yourself that you lacked men so then why send him away? He'll fight for us!"

Throwing his head back, Robb sighed and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds as if he was hoping to find an answer to all of his problems written somewhere on the stone. "You don't understand, Sansa," he resumed more calmly when he fixed his gaze on her again. "I can't give Sandor Clegane a place with us without alienating more of my allies. You've heard that I already lost the Karstarks. Lord Rickard tried to murder the Kingslayer to avenge his son's death. He thankfully didn't succeed but as he killed other Lannister prisoners we had, I had no choice but to execute him… I'm still uncertain that I've made the right decision… I lost so many men because of it." He paused to consider the whole thing a while longer. "Now, we're hoping the Freys will be willing to join forces with us again but nothing is sure until Edmure's wedding is settled. I've made terrible mistakes with them too, although I don't regret marrying Jeyne, of course."

Lady Catelyn's expression hardened at that. Sansa could tell that she probably didn't share her son's opinion on the matter.

"All that to say, sister, that after all these events, I cannot allow myself even the slightest of missteps. If I accept your request and let the Hound join us, how do you think my men will react? They wouldn't understand the gratitude you feel for him and there'd be no sense in trying to make them change their minds about him. You can be certain that they'd take him for a spy and think me weak for allowing my younger sister to influence me in so crucial a matter." Turning severe eyes on Sansa, Robb added quietly, "And to be truthful, I'm not entirely convinced that he isn't one. He could have played you, Sansa. You can be so naïve sometimes-"

"Oh, Robb! How can you say something like that?" Sansa cried out, highly offended by his assumption.

Taking hold of her hands under the table, Sansa's mother interfered in the discussion. "Sansa, he's right. Whether the Hound is a spy or not, that's what the men will believe no matter what we tell them. Robb's every action is scrutinised these days and making such a rash decision would only allow his men to question his leadership further. It would be senseless to risk losing any more of them now."

Eyes pooling with tears, Sansa tried to object once more. "But… but…"

"Shhh, Sansa. You have to trust us," her mother told her softly while squeezing her hands. "Tomorrow, Sandor Clegane will leave, we'll give him gold as Robb has generously proposed and that will be it. You can't save everyone. Choices have to be made. In this case, either we let the Hound stay with us and risk losing more allies or we send him away and keep all the chances we have to save the North. We have to act logically, Sansa. I'm sorry."

A few tears went rolling down Sansa's cheeks. She sniffed, keeping her eyes lowered, partly in shame at crying in front of her family, partly in resentment. They would never be swayed, she could see it now. To tell the truth, she had always known, deep down in her heart that they wouldn't yield but she had preferred to blind herself from reality and believe her silly, childish dreams. The Hound was right, she realised, thinking back to that evening at the Hornvale castle where he had mocked her so cruelly for asking him to become her sworn shield. I was so full of hope back then…

The worst of it was that she couldn't find it in her to either blame or hate her family. They were right. No one would understand if they let the Hound join them in their march north. They'd only lose more allies, make enemies… they couldn't afford that. Oh, gods! Sandor… I'm going to lose you in truth!

At the realisation, Sansa tore her hands for her mother's and stood from her place. She badly needed to be alone. "I'm not hungry anymore. In fact, I think I'll go to bed right away; I'm so tired," she muttered, staring at the floor.

Gazing at her with a compassionate but also obviously weary expression, Lady Catelyn nodded to give her leave. As Robb bade her goodnight, Sansa turned around and strode out of the room.

Rapid as a gust of wind, she ran through the corridor, keeping her head bowed, eager to avoid contact with anyone she passed. The thought of being seen in her state - face soaked in tears, eyes and cheeks red with pain and anger – didn't appeal to her at all. It was humiliating enough already to have had her family witness her weeping like a child; they had not even bothered hiding their amusement at what they believed was a maiden's over the top sensibility. They'd thought her a sweet and innocent girl, worrying to tears at the mere thought that the most renowned and heartless warrior in the Seven Kingdoms might have to face danger. There was no sense in that, of course; she could understand their mirth but they were so wrong! Oh, so wrong! Sansa knew firsthand just how strong Sandor was, undefeatable even. She'd seen him in action more than once. No, the reason she was so emotive was because she loved him. If only they could understand! If only they knew! This is stupid. I ought to be thankful they haven't figured out there was something between us. Otherwise, Sandor would probably have ended up in Riverrun's dungeon, or who knows, even worse… Still, it was frustrating being thought of as a child while she had grown so much lately. Perhaps even now, Mother and Robb were laughing at the memory of her pathetic tantrum and mocking the puerility of her reaction.

No, stop that! They're not mean; you're being ungrateful, she reasoned as she reached her chamber's doorstep and took her key out of her pouch. The room was lit up by a lively brazier that danced in the fireplace when she opened the door and Sansa sighed in relief at the sight. She wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Well, that was a lie of course for she would have given much to be with Sandor but life was far more complicated than simply fulfilling ones desires. Rare were those who did as they liked or if they did, they usually risked paying dearly. Robb was a good example of that logic; by marrying Jeyne, he had lost the Frey alliance. Sansa's case wasn't much different from his in the end; either she behaved like a lady as she had been taught and followed her family back to Winterfell or she threw away everything she knew and fled with the Hound as he had begged her to when they were at the Braxs' Castle. Would his offer still stand if she told him she had changed her mind?

No, it wouldn't be possible anymore. Sandor is surrounded by guards at all times and has been disarmed. Not to mention that thousands of soldiers are camped around the castle… We would never be able to flee. It was a foolish notion anyhow. Sansa loved the Hound with an intensity she had never even suspected she had in her and the knowledge of his imminent departure from her life made her sick with grief but that could never change the fact that her place was in the North with her family. She had a duty to her people and the memory of her late father to honour; escaping across the Narrow Sea with the Hound would only accomplish the antithesis of that. It would be selfish of her to follow her heart no matter how cruel it seemed at the moment, Sansa concluded while jumping on her featherbed and burying her face in the pillows, weeping.

Will Sandor forget me once he's established in the Free Cities? Will I forget him once I'm married to some high lord? The mere idea that they might forget one another, even years from now, made her tremble with sobs. How could something as powerful as the love they had shared vanish into thin air and become naught more than smoke, a vague memory put away forever in the darkness of one's mind? The only thing more tragic than forbidden love was forgotten love… Sansa didn't want to forget; she yearned to be marked forever by that episode of her life and desired naught more than to remember Sandor until the day of her death as her first and only genuine love… and lover. Could I truly do it? she wondered in shock, raising her face from the wet pillows as the thought hit her. Her heartbeats becoming frantic again, she sat up on her featherbed.

As one of Westeros' most highborn maidens, her destiny had always been laid out in advance for her. She would never be one to make decisions for herself and she would need to accept it as was her duty. It was an honour being a Stark after all, nevertheless with the prestige came responsibilities. She wouldn't let her forebears down and disgrace her line by fleeing in the dark of night with someone of the Hound's reputation. However, there was still something she might decide for herself. Something no one apart from her and Sandor would ever need to learn about. And like that, her decision was made.

Tonight, Sansa would offer the Hound her maidenhead.