She comes to him every night when he closes his eyes. Her memory comes unbidden, filling his mind and heart with regret and longing, robbing him of peace and restful sleep.
He can still see her beautiful face, her mouth curling into a whisper of a smile as she shyly glances his way the day of the Hand's tourney. Seeing her again fills him with a feeling he would name happiness, if he had ever experienced it.
Thoughts of her crystal blue eyes and fiery hair are his constant companions; sometimes if he tries hard enough he can even remember the lavender scent of her hair.
She haunts his fitful dreams each and every night; the daytime is no better. As he digs a never ending series of graves, he remembers a time when guarding her was his only concern.
In King's Landing, whoring and drinking until he passed out was his preferred remedy to forget about his Little bird. His mind goes back to her bruised ivory skin, Meryn ripping her lovely dress to shreds while the court cheers him on. He regrets not killing that fucking whoreson; maybe one day he'll get his chance, for the Little Bird's sake he hopes he does.
Inevitably comes the night of the Blackwater battle; he still remembers each and every detail. Lying with her underneath him on her bed, her soft supple body pressed tightly against his own, her small delicate fingers stroking his face, her touch comforting his soul...he can practically feel her again, his cock hardens painfully at the memory.
In his heart he knows it is only a dream. But each night he cannot stop himself from reaching out to her, it all feels so very real. When he opens his eyes she is gone and once again he is alone, with only his memories and the occasional errant mouse for company. And the shit of it all, he doesn't even have any wine to take off the edge.
Whoever the buggering bastard was that said time makes people forget obviously had never met his beautiful Little Bird. Time only reinforces his memories of her; the longing in his heart and body only becomes stronger with each passing day he is apart from her.
Despite having been among the brothers on the Quiet Isle for four months now, Sandor awakens every morning with a start, never sure where he is or how he got there. Confusion and anger cloud his mind until he recognizes the barren quarters of his cell in the sept. He enjoys the peace of annonimity he maintains here on the Quiet Isle but try as he might he cannot deny his heart still burns for Sansa, and for the bloodshed of battle.
He longs for relief, has even gone so far as talking to Elder Brother about her on various occasions. He chooses to keep his bloodlust to himself. Always the same answer comes from Elder Brother's lips. "You have taken no vows Brother Digger, there is no shame in going to her if you should so choose. You said yourself she was a very devoted young woman; your dreams may be The Seven calling on you to help her."
Sandor isn't sure he believes all the manure Elder Brother shovels his way but he cannot deny he is irresistibly drawn to her. The feeling grows and continues to intensify with each passing day; whether it is love or lust getting the better of him, he doesn't know.
Sometimes as he works he fantasizes about jumping onto Stranger's back and returning to King's Landing for her. He always forgets the brothers renamed him Driftwood, something about blasphemy. What a stupid fucking name for a warhorse.
He doesn't even know if she is still there; last he heard she had been married off to the fucking Imp of all people. His beautiful sweet innocent Little Bird, married off to that perverted whoring runt...rage fills his stomach each time he thinks of it.
One day a large woman dressed as a knight rides up while he digs yet another grave, with Elder Brother supervising as usual. Will the poor dead bastards that occupy his graves notice if it isn't exactly even?
The woman is on an errand for Catelyn Stark. Is she out of her mind? Lady Stark is dead. She must be one tough broad to make it to the Quiet Isle on her own, he thinks as he looks her over, his scars hidden by his cowl. Her name is Brienne, she says. He recognizes the young man with her as being the Imp's squire Pod-he remembers him from the battle of the Blackwater.
She makes small talk with Elder Brother. Finally she gets around to her point and asks about the Hound, "Does he have the oldest Stark girl Sansa with him?"
Sansa? The wolf bitch was the Stark he had; she had run off and left him for dead. If he did have Sansa he would sure as Hell never tell her.
Sandor covers his face with the hood of his cowl and continues working in silence, unable to resist eavesdropping on their conversation. Elder Brother answers her as truthfully as possible, "The Hound is dead. I buried him myself. Sandor is at peace."
Nice sidestepping Elder Brother, he wants to laugh out loud. The female knight looks thoughtful, says she's going to kill whoever is doing all the raping in the Saltpans wearing his former helm. About time someone did.
"Do you know what may have happened to the girl?" Elder Brother asks innocently, never once looking at him. Sandor is so shocked he spills dirt on Brienne's feet. She only steps further away; she's ugly as hell but she can't be all bad, he thinks.
"Careful, Brother Digger," Elder Brother chides, "He is a novice and remains silent outside of the sept, my lady. Allow me to apologize on his behalf."
'Shut the fuck up and let her speak!' he screams inside. Only a few moments pass but it feels like hours, waiting for news of his Little Bird. Brienne smiles and pauses a moment. "She may be with Lord Baelish, it is said he is living with his bastard daughter Alayne in the Eyrie. I aim to go and check it out for myself."
Elder Brother nods, then asks, "You think the girl living with him may be the oldest Stark girl?" Brienne shrugs, "I serve Lady Catelyn; she has lost her two youngest to Theon Greyjoy, and King Robb was killed by the Freys. Arya is still missing, presumed dead. I cannot return to her empty handed, Elder Brother. It may be a long shot but I have to try."
Poor Little Bird, all her family is gone now, excepting the bastard Snow of the Night's Watch. He wonders if she knows about all of their deaths. If anyone can survive it's the wolf-bitch. Now to top it all Littlefucker may be holding her against her will. Sandor's stomach drops at the thought; Littlefucker is even worse than the Imp.
The squire speaks up. "I think it might be her Elder Brother." he speaks softly. "I remember Lady Sansa from King's Landing. I've seen the girl Alayne, she could pass for Sansa's twin sister, only she has brown hair."
Littlefucker didn't have any bastards that Sandor remembers; he always kept a enough moon tea to stock ten whorehouses in King's Landing. He's too smart to let some random woman show up with an unwanted surprise...who is the girl he claims as his? Sandor knows whores dye their hair in order to make extra coin, Littlefucker no doubt knows that trick too. Brown hair or not, could it be...
More dirt slips sloppily off his shovel. Elder Brother glances briefly at Sandor before saying, "Yes, word of that travesty even reached us here on the Isle. You say you serve Lady Catelyn; it was our understanding she had died alongside her son."
Brienne shifts on her feet and clears her throat. "Please don't think me sacriligous, Elder Brother...Lady Catelyn was brought back from the dead by some sorcery of Lord Beric Dondarrion, who gave his life for hers. She returned calling herself Lady Stoneheart, I can't bring myself to call her that just yet. She will not rest until she avenges her family. Forgive me, I don't claim to understand it all. I only seek to find her daughters." Elder Brother coughs and nods his head solemnly.
That crazy Catelyn; what would dear old Ned think of her now? He is well acquainted with Dondarrion and his flaming fucking sword; his arm bears the scars to prove it. Neither he nor Gregor could keep that fucking warlock in the ground; so he finally put at end to it himself for Catelyn Stark, Sandor marvels to himself, shaking his head. He freezes; his disbelief at this turn of events temporarily caused him to forget he isn't supposed to be listening to them.
Lady Brienne doesn't seem to notice; she asks for a blessing for her and her squire. Elder Brother says a few words and makes the sign of the Seven over them both, then they turn to leave.
Sandor breathes a sigh of relief as the sound of the horses hooves fades into the distance. Elder Brother stands beside him, staring him long and hard in the face, searching his eyes for his reaction.
The mask of indifference he wore in King's Landing spreads over him reflexively, hiding his inner thoughts. I don't owe you everything, Sandor growls to himself. Satisfied nothing is amiss, Elder Brother turns back toward the sept.