Yearning for his beloved Sansa has wrought an unrelenting turmoil in Sandor's mind and body unlike anything he has ever experienced and the soothing warmth of his Little Bird nestled in his arms embraces Sandor in a deep abiding serenity. It is all he has wished for ever since he left her in King's Landing and he can scarcely believe that she is here, safe in his arms at last. The comfort she brings him is both unfamiliar and most welcome and he relishes having her close to him. Being in her company has made Sandor realize the depth of their bond is far more than shared emotions or physical suffering; it is a joining of heart and soul, of body and mind, leaving him at a loss to understand such an unusual phenomena.
The chilled early morning draft wafts under the cabin door and Sandor awakens to find Sansa snuggling close to his chest, her bare body exposed as her modest arrangement of furs lay cast off, forgotten in slumber. Gazing at her tiny form in his arms, he is relieved to find her ivory skin now exudes a healthful blush. Though painfully thin, she is more beauty than he ever expected to see in life and he cradles his cherished beloved close to his heart, eager to prolong their blissful rest.
Frosted sunlight filters through the icy window and illuminates the room, reflecting the fiery natural color in Sansa's dark brown mane now spread across Sandor's muscular chest like a shawl, the familiar site bringing a smile to his face. She is so very warm and beautiful and alive Sandor can hardly believe this is not yet another of his fevered dreams. Feeling her feather-light fingertips tenderly stroking the twisted marred flesh covering his forearm, Sandor's mind is momentarily distracted from her and unwittingly he returns to the brutal trial by fire against Beric Dondarrion. It is just one of many battles permanently seared into his flesh but Sandor resents the physical reminder of his past crimes for which the Brotherhood Without Banners sought his punishment.
No doubt Sansa remains unaware of this so-called trial, least of all that it was brought on in part by her little sister. With the little wolf bitches' quick temper, eagerness for fighting and desire for vengeance, it is no wonder Arya passed for his daughter so convincingly during their travels. Looking back Sandor cannot help but chuckle to himself at the memory of the little hellion; never has he seen two sisters more dissimilar than the Stark girls and yet both possess a intractable steely willpower he admires just the same.
He no longer wishes to remember the bitter, vengeful Hound that lived only to seek revenge on Gregor-he and Elder Brother buried that miserable creature once and for all on the Quiet Isle. With much inner struggling, Sandor vigorously worked daily to change his violent tendencies and the memory of his beautiful Little Bird was the nourishment that sustained him. Even though she was far removed from him while he recovered on the Quiet Isle, she nevertheless infused him with the strength to begin the process of overcoming the darker side of his nature. Elder Brother has shown him the important role his love for her has played in his transformation and he longs to return the favor, helping her as she has helped him.
Reluctant to interrupt her delicate exploration Sandor lies motionless, pretending to be fast asleep while he watches Sansa beneath lowered eyelids. Reverentially running her fingers over his leathery scars, Sandor feels her warm soft lips placing gentle kisses on the fresh deeper discolorations. Sandor cannot remember the last time anyone touched him with such deep affection and Sansa's arousing caresses send Sandor to the Seven Heavens.
His pleasure is interrupted by the feeling of her tears showering his skin. Sandor is about to reach for her when he hears Sansa whisper sadly, "My love, who would hurt you in such a way?" Never has she been so bold with him and he knows the intense bond they share accounts for her temporary lapse in shyness. Sandor wants nothing more than to be joined to her in body as they are in mind and heart. He craves her with every ounce of his being, longs to taste her, to bury himself deep inside of her, for the two of them to become one flesh at last. Inside his heart Sandor knows Sansa deserves to be made his wife before he makes love to her and he will not press his advantage when she is in such a fragile mental and physical state.
Her attention soon falls on the fresh scarring from his final battle with Gregor's men at the inn. Sansa's heart aches at the sight of the physical remnants of the terrible suffering he has endured and she feels inexplicably drawn to replace his pain with her love. Softly she places delicate kisses over the wounds on his hip and thigh, gliding her hands over his skin in tender strokes, so intent on comforting him she is unaware her actions have ignited Sandor's simmering lust into a raging passion.
Sansa squeaks out a protest as he suddenly gathers her against his chest once more. "Seven Hells woman but I can barely resist you," he growls in her ear, heatedly kissing her neck. Laughing, she tilts her head to give him better access. Afraid if he continues he may not be able to stop himself, he abruptly pulls away, needing to distance himself from her if he is to maintain his self control. "Little Bird, I would make you my wife first before...we get any closer," he explains, his voice hoarse with desire. Blushing a deep shade of red, she shyly looks away, a small smile playing across her lips before suddenly bringing his face down to hers and covering his mouth in a deep kiss. "Yes, I would like that too Sandor."
Sansa clings to his neck as happy tears fall from her eyes; grinning, Sandor tenderly brushes them from her cheeks. "We'll have our time, Little Bird." Pulling her furs closer, she shyly places her hand over his heart."Forgive me...you must think me wanton being so...free with you here but I feel such a close bond with you, as though in our hearts we are already married." Sandor has felt the same way ever since he held her in the godswood and he is startled to hear Sansa is experiencing the same intense emotional response as well.
Smiling, he rhythmically strokes her back and down her hips, savoring the feel of her soft warm body in his arms. His love and need for her has reached an all consuming level and her closeness clouds his thinking as he tries to convey his feelings. "You don't need to apologize...I feel the same way. You are so beautiful, I admit I forgot myself too, Little Bird. But more than that...this type of attachment is very powerful and seems to get even stronger the longer we are together." Shaking his head, he pauses and gathers his thoughts before he continues. "As it is now I'm likely to kill that fucker Littlefinger as soon as I see him. If we were to be intimate ...I am not sure I would be able to contain my anger towards him after that, Sansa-my feelings for you are too strong."
"I understand Sandor, in my heart I feel it too. If we...were any closer that I doubt I would be able to maintain the secrecy of our relationship. Be assured I will gladly wait for our intimacy my love." Caressing his face she softly asks, "In Winterfell we kept the old gods, even with my septa there. I do not remember if there is a teaching to explain such things-do you have any idea how this bond between us came about?"
Burying his face in her neck, Sandor tries to recall Elder Brother's words; having her in his arms drives away everything but her and he finds it difficult to articulate his thoughts. "I'll let Elder Brother explain it to you-he is better with words than I am. I wish him to marry us under the Heart tree as soon as you are ready." Tears fill her eyes and determined to maintain her composure she hesitates, struggling for words. "I am ready to marry you as soon as the Elder Brother agrees. I can feel you Sandor, inside my heart. Can you not feel the depth of my love for you?"
Waves of deep emotion suddenly wash over his heart and Sandor is so overwhelmed he finds it difficult to distinguish his own feelings from hers. "Yes, I feel it Little Bird...so much so it makes thinking bloody difficult." Smiling, Sansa is glad she is not alone in being completely overpowered by her feelings. Still she cannot forget what she has seen on his body and longs to know what happened to him during their time apart. Tenderly she strokes his arm as she she whispers, "Please my love, tell me what happened to you-how did you get such scars?"
"A group of outlaws calling themselves the Brotherhood without Banners-fucking craven bastards. They held a mock trial for my supposed crimes in service of the Lannisters. Once I was convicted I chose trial by combat with their leader." Raising her eyebrow to him she asks, "Their leader-do you know his name?" Holding her close, Sandor can feel Sansa's body suddenly begin trembling. "Beric Dondarrion." Sensing her mounting anxiety he asks low, "Sansa, do you know him?"
Sansa shakes her head sadly. "No, not really. I only have seen the man once-I doubt I would even recognize him now. It's just that...this may sound far fetched but he...well, after my mother was murdered by the Freys..." she trails off, uncertain how to explain the dark magic employed by Beric and the abomination it spawned in her mother's corpse. Understanding her struggle Sandor offers, "That woman Brienne told us, Little Bird...about what has become of Lady Catelyn. I am very sorry."
Grief for her beloved mother and all she has lost finally breaks free at last and Sansa sobs uncontrollably in his arms, her anguish pouring out of her body in waves of bitter tears. From his own excruciating experiences Sandor is cognizant that in order to recover Sansa must vent her long suppressed misery. Nevertheless, watching her acute affliction is physically and emotionally painful for him. Sandor wraps his arms around her tightly, enveloping her body with his own. "I've got you Little Bird. As you well know I am no stranger to grief; you have kept this hidden for so long it has poisoned you. Just let go my love."
Sansa's tears flow unabated for what feels like an eternity to Sandor, her torment generates a gut wrenching pain throughout his body. After exhausting her tears, her breathing slowly returns to normal as Sandor strokes her hair, whispering words of comfort against her forehead. Quickly Sansa falls back into a sound sleep once more against his chest, fully at ease now that she finally is at liberty to grieve for her family.
Sandor spends the next few hours contemplating their return to the Eyrie and when Sansa awakens he is sitting on her side of the bed fully dressed, ready to leave. Watching her carefully he moves closer as she starts to get out of bed. "Before we eat and head back to the Eyrie, there's a few things we should talk over first, alright?" Sitting beside him, she eyes him questioningly. "Of course my love. What is it?" Noting her worried expression, Sandor carefully reaches under her legs and lifts her onto his lap, cradling her body against his broad chest. Tilting her face up to his, he speaks his words slow and deliberately.
"You will be safe with me there Sansa, I swear it on all of the gods, both old and new. I will kill Littlefucker and anyone that stand in my way is as good as dead, understand? I will make him beg the Stranger to take him if he so much as lifts a hand to you. Do you trust me?" Moved by the violent determination in his voice, she smiles and nods and despite his fearsome demeanor she is reassured by his fierce protectiveness.
Searching her eyes, he is satisfied he has her confidence."Good. Now you must promise to trust me entirely, Sansa. You must not let fear overtake you. You cannot give any indication to Littlefinger that you know me or that anything has changed-do just as you would in King's Landing. Promise me." Sansa has learned all too well how to spout her mindless replies and this time it will serve a purpose: Sandor needs his Little Bird to sing her courtesies and chirp on command if they are to succeed in escaping the Vale. "Yes-yes of course, I promise." Satisfied, he pats her thighs gently. "Remember, you cannot look at me, speak to me directly or call me by any name other than Silent Brother. I will always be close by, even if you cannot see me. Elder Brother knows your true identity and also has promised to help us-it won't be easy but I will get you away from Littlefucker once and for all."
Still uninhibited by her state of undress she curls both arms around his neck before asking, "How did Elder Brother learn my identity?" The feel of her warm body snuggled against his own and her soft skin under his hands sends heated desire through Sandor's body. Clearing his throat, he carefully sets her on her feet and rises. "That's a story I'll tell you on the road Little Bird-I fixed us some food to break our fast, once you're dressed and fed we can be on our way, what say you?"
Covering herself in the nearest fur and blushing deeply, Sansa looks down and nods, then reaches for her clothes and steps behind the changing screen. Forcibly turning away from her, he busies himself readying their supplies while she dresses. When she is finished, she tentatively steps out from behind the screen and shyly smiles as he turns to look at her. For a moment her beauty renders him speechless and he stares at her openly, drinking in the sight of her. The dark blue woolen gown sets off the returning red in her waist length hair and brings out the crystal cerulean color in her eyes. Unable to resist, he reaches for her hand and draws her close to him.
Carefully looking her over he comments,"Something seems to be missing, Little Bird." Glancing over her gown she adjusts her belt, then gasps as she raises her hand where she normally wears his hairpin. "Is this what you are looking for?" he rasps softly, holding out the jeweled bird hair ornament. Laughing, she takes it from his hand, then throws her arms around his neck, tumbling them both back onto the bed as she covers his face with kisses. Gently pulling away from her, he pointedly clears his throat once more before muttering, "Being around you has my blood up all the time, Little Bird. As much as I would love to spend the day in bed with you I've got to get you back to the Eyrie. Elder Brother should be close by now."
Clearing her throat loudly in imitation of him, Sansa giggles as she sits down at the table and places the pin in her hair. Bowing exaggeratedly toward him she replies in her best Cersei imitation, "Your plans are acceptable, Silent Brother." Surprised he jerks his head toward her suddenly, his startled expression bringing even louder giggles from Sansa as she cocks her head at him in amusement. "Think that's funny, do you woman?" he growls, unable to keep his lips from twitching into a smile at the sight of her trying to stifle her mirth.
His words send Sansa into peals of laughter and Sandor soon joins her, overjoyed by her happy response. Eyes sparkling with mischief, her entire face lights up in charming delight as she merrily she reaches out to squeeze his hand. Sansa's touch fills Sandor's heart with contentment and for the first time he joyfully discovers he can discern her happiness as well. "This is the sweetest song you've ever sang for me, Little Bird. I hope to hear an even sweeter one from you one day soon."
Making the most of the last few precious moments alone, Sandor and Sansa break their fast regaling each other with funny stories and laughing as happily as newlyweds in spite of their precarious situation. As Sandor finishes saddling Stranger and locking up the cabin, a familiar dread washes over him; he recognizes it is Sansa's fear of Littlefinger returning to her. There is nothing more he can say to reassure her, so he wraps his arms around her and pulls her tightly against his chest one last time before they leave for the Eyrie. "I love you Little Bird. I won't let anything happen to you," he whispers in her hair as he strokes her back. "As I love you Sandor. Might we stop at the godswood to pray before we return?" Sighing, Sandor nods in agreement. "Yes, we'll need all the help we can get. Maybe Elder Brother will be there by now." Swinging her up onto Stranger's back, Sandor gently spurs the warhorse out of the densely wooded glen toward the castle.
By mid morning thick clouds billow up over the Vale, bringing the crisp smell of snow to the godswood. "Work faster-the weather will be upon us soon!" hisses Petyr Baelish. Overseeing two Stone Crows digging furiously into the soft earth around the deep gray hot springs next to the Heart tree, he careless kicks the corpse at his feet in frustration. The body of Harrold Hardyng, wrapped in plain white silken sheets and carefully bound with ropes lies ignominiously in death beneath the weirwood trees on the cold ground of the godswood. "This must be finished before Lady Alayne comes down for breakfast. For the love of the Seven men, I will make it worth your while-so move, damn you!"
Frowning, the first man taps his spade lightly, then kneels down for a closer inspection. "M'lord, something is already buried here. What ya suppose it be?" Gritting his teeth, Baelish walks forward and peers inside, "That's impossible Seamus, no one-" Eyes widening, the grizzled man lifts out a muddy black sack and holds it out to Petyr. Smirking in derision, Baelish gingerly opens it and lifts out the yellow satin sack Sansa made for Sandor's cloak. "What you s'pose it is?" Seamus asks, puzzled by Petyr's hardened expression. Frowning, he eyes the three black dogs carefully stitched into the material as being the sigil of the Clegane family, remembering Gregor wore the same coat of arms the day of the Hand's Tourney. "I'm not quite sure yet, men."
Turning, he walks some distance and barks for them to continue their digging. Opening the sack, Petyr is startled to find Sandor's bloody white velvet Kingsguard cloak carefully folded inside. Gasping, his face twists in rage as he recalls the the night of the Blackwater battle, watching from the safety of Maegor's Holdfast as Sandor unceremoniously told Joffrey and Tyrion to fuck off. He was wearing his Kingsguard cloak then...always a fastidious man, Petyr immediately noticed it was covered in blood and filth.
"Where in Seven Hells did this come from?" Petyr mutters aloud, unable to fathom the obvious conclusion. How could it have possibly escaped his notice that the garment has been in Sansa's possession the entire time they have lived at the Eyrie? Why would she hold onto such a disgusting item in the first place? If she has been hiding this, what else is she keeping from him?
Turning back to the workers, he curtly announces, "I have important business to attend, men. Don't let me find that body unburied when I return-and you'd better hope for your sake Lady Alayne doesn't find you out here, understand?" Glancing around, he quickly stuffs everything back inside the black bag before hurrying to the castle, grumbling under his breath, "It should be most interesting to hear what my beloved daughter has to say about this!"