A/N: First off...happy January 17th! Today is officially one year from when I published the first chapter of this story. So happy anniversary to Ice and Fire and here's an update to celebrate! :D Anyway, I don't think there's anything in here that needs an explanation. There is, however, a Battlestar Galactica (2004) reference in the mix. You may or may not notice it. Just felt like Lee and Starbuck deserved a subtle shout-out. And...my sister wanted me to warn you all of 'excessive, tooth-rotting fluff and spontaneous love' ahead. Be wary. Many thanks to my beta reader (and sister) GrowlingPeanut. Reviews are appreciated.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bethesda Softworks and George R. R. Martin. Specifically, The Legend of Lover's Lament is property of the former.

Rating: M for strong language and implied sexual content

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he hadn't dreamt. Instead of the pain and the terror that nightmares always brought, there was nothing but blissful oblivion. And her.

When the first few rays of the rising sun filtered in through the window to rouse the sleeping couple from their slumber, Sandor stretched out his legs and opened his eyes to see Sansa curled up against his side with a peaceful smile on her face.

As much as he loathed to admit it, it had been nothing more than the need for physical satisfaction that had dictated his actions the night before. After her kiss he had thought about little else but her and he would have been a fool not to have taken what she decided to give freely. Even so, he had felt bad every time Sansa had winced or tensed beneath him, but dutifully urged him to continue until he was spent and curled up around her in a strangely comforting afterglow.

It wasn't until he had woken to her warm breath against his ear telling him that she needed him and then watched as she came undone above him with his name on her lips that he felt the first stirrings of what might have been love. In that single moment, he vowed never to leave her side and spent the next few hours telling her as much in the best way he knew how.

When the soft brush of warm lips against his skin broke him from his thoughts, Sandor glanced down to see Sansa pressing a tender kiss to his scarred shoulder. She smiled when he met her gaze and leaned forward to kiss him on the lips.

"Good morning, Sandor."

"Good morning, little bird." His voice was rough with disuse and lingering fatigue and he made a conscious effort to soften his tone. "How are you feeling?"

Sansa sighed and frowned slightly. "A little sore. But," she added to soothe the look of concern that crossed his features, "It didn't hurt as much the second time." Blushing, she continued in a whisper, "Or the third..."

Sandor nodded and nuzzled his face in her tousled auburn curls to avoid her gaze. He loved how she smelled. It was a strange but enticing mixture of lavender, honey, and lemon. And it was dangerously arousing.

After a moment of letting him lazily comb his fingers through her tangled hair, Sansa sighed heavily and looked up at him with a hint of trepidation in her eyes. "Sandor, do you have any children? With your...whores?" she asked quietly, looking away from his face and picking at something on the rough woolen blanket.

Sandor frowned. "No."

"But..."

His expression hardened and he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to meet his gaze again. "I promise you, little bird, that I have never fathered a bastard."

"But how do you know?" she whispered, her eyes wet with tears that threatened to fall if she didn't hear the answer she wanted to.

Sandor sighed and brushed her hair away from her forehead. Perhaps one day he would tell her the reason for his caution when fucking whores, but if so, now was not the time. She already knew too much about his past. "Because I've only ever finished inside of one woman in my life, and she's not a whore."

For a moment, Sansa looked confused before realization dawned in her big blue eyes. "Me..."

Her lover chuckled. "Yes, little bird, you." His expression shifted and he continued in an almost chastising tone. "Although I can't say I want to risk getting you with child either."

Sansa shook her head earnestly. "I know how to make moon tea, I promise. I just...last night...I didn't want you to..." She hesitated, frowned, and then started again, "I mean, I wanted to be a...a part of...you...through all of it. I didn't want you to think that I wouldn't want you to be...inside me when you...I mean, I still...do..."

He smiled at her halting attempt to voice her thoughts as a bright blush rose to her cheeks.

"I understand. And thank you. It means more to me than you know."

She nodded and buried her face in his shoulder, still blushing furiously. After a moment, she spoke up again, sighing heavily. "I wish we could stay here forever."

Sandor raised his eyebrow. "Don't you want to get back to your brother?"

"Yes, but..." She wrapped her arms around him and smiled shyly. "Right now, what I want is you."

Snorting, Sandor moved her to sit up on his stomach and massaged her smoothly curved hips with his thumbs. "I don't think I'll ever understand you, Sansa Stark."

Sansa smiled and bent down to give him a kiss. "There's not much to understand. I love you. That's simple enough."

Simple? Divines...how is love simple?

Sandor gave a noncommittal grunt and then closed his eyes to avoid her disapproving gaze. He hadn't yet reciprocated the sentiment in words and although he knew she was waiting for him to, he wasn't entirely sure that he was ready for what came along with that confession.

Sighing again, Sansa leaned down and met his lips with her own, trying to imbue as much feeling as possible into the kiss as if in the hope that it would spur him into an admission of love. He remained stubbornly silent, but kissed her back. After a moment, he pulled away and laced his hands behind his head, looking up at her.

"We can't stay in bed all day."

"Why not?" Sansa asked, tracing a jagged scar that ran from his shoulder down to the center of his chest.

"Because we have somewhere to be. I'm taking you to Windhelm in case you forgot, little bird."

She shook her head and then laid it down over his heart, listening to its suddenly unsteady beat and whispering against his shoulder. "No. Please, can we stay here for just one more night?"

Sandor frowned. As much as he wanted to say yes, and indulge her desire to stay in bed with him for the duration of the day, he knew they should get there as soon as possible. For her sake at the very least.

"You do know that I can still fuck you outside of an inn, right?" he teased, smiling at the blush his words prompted.

"Yes, but..." She sighed and tried to snuggle closer. "I just...we can leave tomorrow morning. It's only one day, Sandor...please?" She looked at him from beneath her eyelashes and blinked slowly, her Tully blue eyes wide and hazy with desire. Sandor squirmed in sudden discomfort.

"Bloody hell, woman. Yes, we can stay. Just...stop whatever that is you're doing."

Sansa laughed and scooted down so her hips were level with his. "Do you really want me to?"

He groaned and shot her a look of desperation. "I swear to the gods, you'll be the death of me, little bird."

"Oh..." she said teasingly, adjusting her position so that she could place a trail of kisses down his chest. "The Hound will finally be killed by nothing less than the love of a woman."

"This isn't love, it's torture," he grumbled, swearing through clenched teeth when her tongue flicked out to lick its way down his stomach. Somewhere between the second and third time he had fucked her, she had grown far bolder in her ministrations, casting aside whatever reservations that had remained. If she kept on the way she was, she was going to drive him mad.

Sansa ignored him and murmured against his skin, making him shiver and move his hands to tangle in the thick auburn locks of her hair. "That's a death they'll write songs about."

"Nobody's going to write a fucking song about me, Sansa Stark," Sandor growled, reveling in her quiet gasp when he pushed his hips up against hers.

Her bright blue eyes were dark with desire when she met his gaze and she absentmindedly licked her swollen lips. "Not even me?"

Sandor chuckled darkly and pulled her back up so he could kiss her. "That's not the kind of song I want to hear from you." He moved his lips up her jaw and whispered into her ear as she blushed prettily. "That's right. Now you know what I've always meant." His voice was a hoarse plea when he spoke again, his teeth lightly grazing her earlobe. "Go on. Sing for me, little bird..."

And so she did. And when her song was finished, Sandor Clegane said the three words he'd never dared to dream of hearing to the woman who had captivated him from the first moment he'd laid eyes on her. "I love you, Sansa..." And Gods help him, he meant it.

Leaving Sandor's side to skip happily to the shoreline, Sansa kicked off her shoes and spun around in the sand, her dress twirling out and rising to bare her pale calves as she hummed happily. Sandor couldn't help but laugh at the sight.

"You're acting like a drunken fool, little bird."

Raising her eyebrows, Sansa sauntered over to him and placed her hands on his hips. "I can't help it that you're so intoxicating." She grinned and kissed him. He rolled his eyes.

Laughing merrily, Sansa spun away again and ran into the water before turning back to face him. "Come and join me!"

Sandor frowned as she raised her skirts and moved deeper into the water. "You'll get all wet, little bird."

She smiled coyly and looked at him from beneath her eyelashes. "Isn't that what you want? Now, don't make me ask twice."

Shaking his head in amusement, Sandor pulled off his boots and rolled up the bottoms of his trousers before wading out to meet her. She giggled and wrapped her legs around his waist as he picked her up to kiss her. After a moment, she pulled away and just stared at him then smiled happily and kissed his nose. "I love you, Sandor." Now that he'd admitted his feelings in words, she couldn't seem to hear it often enough.

"Mmm...I know you do."

"And...?"

"And what?" he teased, grinning when she scrunched up her nose.

"Stop being difficult."

Laughing, he brought his lips to hers and adjusted his grip to keep her pressed against him. "I love you too, Sansa." When she nuzzled her face against his shoulder and kissed her way up the burned side of his throat, he sighed heavily. "You shouldn't though."

A pretty little bird deserves better than a broken old dog.

"Shouldn't what?" she murmured, gently massaging his broad shoulders with her slender fingers.

"Love me."

His words pulled her away and she gave him a look. "Sandor...I can love whomever I please. I don't care what anyone else has to say about it." When he raised his eyebrow in disbelief, Sansa smirked and raised her chin defiantly. "Alright. I can prove it."

Trusting him to hold her, she threw out her arms and yelled as loudly as she could. "I love Sandor Clegane!" When the echo faded, she looked back at him and smiled. "Now everybody knows."

Sandor shook his head in disbelief. "The gods must've robbed you of your wits, little bird. I do believe you've gone mad."

Sansa shook her head emphatically. "Quite the opposite. Now that I've..." When she paused to search for the words she was looking for, Sandor smirked.

"Been fucked?"

Sansa blushed. "I was going to say, now that I've found you...it's like the rest of my life was so...empty. I thought I was happy, but I've never been happier than I am here with you." She sighed and put her arms back around his neck as she rested her head against his shoulder. "It's hard to describe."

Sandor shrugged and moved his hands lower on her back to support her better. "I think I know what you mean. If a dog's kicked enough in his life, he'll forget what it feels like to be loved, but now...you don't deserve me, but I don't doubt that you think you love me. It's a bit intimidating."

Smiling, Sansa rubbed her nose against his neck and kissed the underside of his jaw. "You're not a dog, you're a man. The bravest man I know, so don't be afraid. All you have to do with my love is give it back. That's how it works."

"I don't know how to love you back, little bird," Sandor murmured, burying his face in her hair and forcing down the lump in his throat. "But I'll do my best."

Sansa pulled away to give him a wide smile and when an unexpected wave crashed over them, she shrieked, earning a burst of laughter from her companion as she slipped from his arms and ran back towards the shore. Following behind, Sandor waded through the tide and then lowered himself onto the beach beside where Sansa had rather unceremoniously flopped down on her stomach in the sand.

They lie in silence for a moment, Sandor watching as her fingers traced designs in the warm sand, before she kicked her feet up to meet her shoulder blades and raised her head.

"Have you ever read the Legend of Lovers Lament?"

Sandor thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. "I didn't spend much of my time in the Legion reading novels intended for maidens who are curious about the goings on in the marriage bed."

"They are not intended for..." Sansa floundered in her attempt at a hot retort, a telling blush rising to her cheeks as she shot him a defiant look. Sandor snorted.

With a huff, she looked back down at the sand and pursed her lips. "Regardless...it's the story of a man named Gerthland and his lover, the lady Madylina. They were very much in love—quite a lot like you and I."

Sandor sighed softly and gave a nod of concession.

"Well, there was an evil sorcerer named Hergen who was also in love with Madylina, and when he realized that she would never return his love, he became furious. Not too long after, Gerthland was killed in battle and Madylina, mad with grief, took her own life."

Sandor opened his mouth to reply, then frowned and decided against it, waving her on.

"In revenge, Hergen cast a spell on them—a curse, rather—that made sure neither of their spirits would rest until Madylina agreed to be his lover, even in death. Unwilling to do so, Madylina and Gerthland had to spend the rest of eternity with his curse, meeting every night, yet unable to touch. Nevertheless, their love prevailed and to this day, they are still said to be seen together on the shores of the lake that is now known as Lover's Lament."

Staying silent for a moment, Sandor furrowed his brow and then hesitantly spoke up. "Your point being...?"

"I love you," Sansa stated simply. "And even though I'm not sure what will happen when we get to Windhelm, I want you to know that I will always love you, and nothing that could ever come between us will change that."

Giving her a crooked smile to hide his true feelings on the matter of what was to come when they reached the gates of Windhelm, he pulled her on top of him and kissed her soundly. "I love you too, little bird."

Her point made, she settled happily down on Sandor's bare chest, absently brushing her lips across his various scars. The soothing rhythm of her soft mouth against his skin lulled him into a drowsy daze and it was only when she spoke again that he returned fully to consciousness.

"Sandor Clegane..." Sansa methodically kissed from his forehead down his nose and across both of his cheeks before moving back to his lips. He raised his eyebrow and gave a half-hearted grunt. "Hm?"

"I'm going to marry you."

Sandor snorted and adjusted the position of his hand on her lower back. "Aye?"

"Aye." She echoed with a wide smile, shifting to meet his gaze as he stared up at her with evident disbelief. "As soon as we get to Windhelm."

"And how exactly do you propose to do such a thing? A highborn lady's no match for the Hound." He moved his hands behind his head and watched her fingers out of the corner of his eye as she gently combed his hair through the sand.

"I'm not going to marry the Hound," she replied matter-of-factly. "I'll be marrying Sandor Clegane, the younger son of a lesser lord."

"Still not a suitable match for the likes of you."

"I'm marrying you for love, not position."

He snorted again and closed his eyes to avoid the look he knew he would receive once he replied. "Just see how your brother likes the sound of that."

"Oh, but I've got that all worked out. When we get to Windhelm, I'll tell Robb that all the reports he heard were wrong. Yes, you did take me from King's Landing, but it was to rescue me from the plots of the Lannisters."

"Will he believe that?"

"Of course!" Sansa said emphatically, abruptly pushing herself up into a sitting position. "Why would I lie?"

"Because the Hound raped you into telling a tale that would get him a higher ransom."

He could almost hear her frown and opened his eyes again to see her carefully pondering his answer before shaking her head. "No. If they believed you raped me, you'd be executed. You know that as well as I do, so it wouldn't be worth the risk."

Sandor shrugged. "You're a pretty girl, and a man has needs. Maybe it is worth it."

Sansa sighed impatiently and placed a finger over his lips. "Stop talking. You're ruining my plan. Now...after I tell Robb how you saved me, he'll offer you a reward of your choice. He'll offer to make you a knight or a lord—"

"Fuck—"

She silenced him with a kiss and finished his sentence. "Knights; yes, I know. But he will regardless of your opinion on the matter. Instead of that though, you'll ask for a wife."

"And when he asks who, I'll say you. And we live happily ever after." Hard as he tried, he couldn't keep the bitterness from his tone.

Sansa beamed regardless. "Exactly! Within the year we'll have the first of our many children and with you out of the war, we can move to some small unassuming village and live there in peace until we grow old and die together."

Sandor laughed harshly and shook his head. "That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard." When he saw how crestfallen Sansa looked, he sighed and rephrased his statement. "It's not that I don't want you, little bird. Gods know I do, more than anything. It's just not likely to all work out that way. Life isn't one of your pretty songs, Sansa. I thought I'd taught you that by now."

"You've taught me much," she replied stubbornly, "But not yet to give up on the hope I still have for the world."

"Hope?" He snorted. "What world are you living in, girl?"

She looked about ready to reply when she thought better of it and fixed him with a disapproving glare. When she finally decided to respond, it was with calculated logic.

"You told me once," she began, slowly running her finger along Sandor's collarbone. "That killing is the sweetest thing there is. Do you still believe that?"

Sandor frowned and then spoke after a moment. "If a man stood between the two of us—the Hergen to our Gerthland and Madylina—and I had to kill him to be with you, what would be sweeter? Killing the man or having you back in my arms?"

Sansa furrowed her brow, but gave her answer no lengthy thought before responding. "Being with me."

"Ah..." Sandor smiled and pulled her back down to him, his hands wrapping loosely around her thin waist. "But I can't be with you until I kill him. So, the sweetest thing, little bird, is the act that puts you back beside me."

Sansa frowned, visibly mulling over his answer in her head, before admitting defeat and pouting for a moment. "That wasn't a fair example."

Laughing, Sandor moved his lips to her forehead and planted a chaste kiss against the line of her brow. "When was the last time anything was fair?"

After a moment without a reply, he sighed and glanced up toward the gradually setting sun. "We should leave at the break of dawn."

Unwilling to argue further, Sansa simply nodded against his shoulder and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

"Come on, little bird," he said gently, moving her off of him before standing and offering a hand to help her up. "Let's get you back to the inn. We have a long day ahead of us."