Covered in furs, Sansa snuggles down against Sandor's chest as they travel through the craggy trail leading to the Eyrie. Covering his face, only Sandor's eyes are visible beneath the cowl of his sacred robes. Safe and secure in his powerful arms, Sansa savors these final moments alone, knowing it will be a long time before they can enjoy such closeness again. Recognizing such intimacy will abruptly come to an end makes the experience even more precious to Sansa. She is determined to commit each detail to memory in hopes it will sustain her until they are free to be together at last.

They travel in silence below the main trail through the Vale to avoid undue attention, though so far they have not seen another soul the entire way. Closing her eyes, she focuses only on Sandor and every facet of his being: the way his stormy gray eyes glitter when he looks at her, his muscular thighs made hard from hours on horseback holding her securely in the saddle, the warmth of his battle hardened chest pressing against her back with each of Stranger's steps. Sandor's drab brown woolen robe scratches against her cheek, his soothing strong hands tenderly stroking her stomach under the furs as his long fingers enticingly splay up to her breasts and down to her pelvis. Sansa soon becomes completely immersed in her beloved, his very essence generating a powerful yearning throughout her body.

Reaching up the sleeves of his robes, she tenderly caresses his bare arms in long even strokes. Feeling his hardened arousal against her backside intensifies her desire for him and a small moan escapes her lips as she feels his hand move lower, his long fingers lightly brushing mere inches from her woman's place. Maneuvering Stranger deeper into the evergreen underbrush, Sandor finds a secluded spot and dismounts, gently lifting Sansa from the saddle. "You'll make a liar out of me at this rate, Little bird," he growls into her ear, pulling her tightly flush against his body and heatedly kissing her. "Gods help me, I burn for you, woman."

"I…I cannot help myself, Sandor, I need you," she gasps in between kisses. "I cannot bear the idea of not being able to have this with you so soon after finding you again. Iit is too painful, my love." Reaching around her waist, he raises her up as he sits back against a log until she straddles his lap. Tentatively she rocks her hips against his manhood while his tongue ardently explores her mouth. Guiding her movements with his hands, Sandor reaches under her skirts and caresses the bare skin of her hips and thighs. She is so beautiful and warm and willing in his arms, Sandor can barely restrain his passion for her. He allows his hands to roam her body freely, reveling in the feel of her soft skin.

Gripping her tightly in his arms, he stills her movements while he buries his face in the crook of her neck, deeply inhaling the scent of her. "Sansa, please love, stay still. I'll spill my seed if we don't stop now," he pants into her ear, his voice thick with need. Pulling away slightly, she sheepishly looks into his eyes, her face flushed with a combination of desire and embarrassment.

"Forgive me Sandor-I am so very wicked I know, teasing you this way. My body craves you in the same way it needs food or water, to the point that my desire completely overwhelms my senses. I have become wanton and I don't know how to control myself with you."

Smiling at her, he caresses her cheek with the back of his hand. "I understand, Little bird, I feel the same way. I should not take such liberties with you when we both are in such a state. We must be very careful-especially around Littlefinger."

Shame clouds her face as she nods in agreement, her eyes downcast. "Sandor, promise me we never have to go through such a separation again. I don't think I could survive it. I would rather die than be parted from you again."

Raising his finger to her lips, he stares into her eyes. "Don't say such things, Little bird. I never want to hear that from your lips again. Our bond is unquestionably the most powerful sensation either of us has ever experienced and gods help me, love, I would no more leave you than I would cut off my own arm. But you must be determined to survive, no matter what happens. Promise me."

Caressing his face, she shyly concurs with a smile. "I promise my love."

Rising, he carefully sets her down. "Alright then, you ready to go?"

A sudden shiver runs through her body before she answers. "Yes, Sandor. Let's get this over with, shall we?"

Grinning, he kisses her one last time before placing her on Stranger's back in front of him and resuming their journey. "You will be safe with me, Little bird, I swear it on the old gods and the new. Have faith in me now, Sansa. I won't fail you a second time, you best believe that."

All too soon, the snow-covered weirwood trees of the ancient godswood come into view. Sansa leans forward a more respectable distance from Sandor in the saddle while he adjusts his hood and cowl securely over his face, careful to conceal his characterizing scars. As they near the path to the grove Petyr Baelish's attendant Rafe rides up with a retinue of men to meet the couple. Visibly startled to see her with a Silent Brother he calls out, "Lady Alayne! Where have you been? We've been all over for you!" Immediately Sandor recognizes the man as Baelish's attendant accompanying Elder Brother to the Eyrie; however Rafe is so focused on Sansa he barely takes notice of him.

Sandor watches as Sansa's face transforms into the unreadable mask of courtesy she wore in King's Landing as the young man approaches. "Ser Rafe-I am ever so glad to see you! Please forgive me-my own foolishness has led to this entire unpleasant situation. Last night I could not sleep with all of the wedding excitement and all so I rose and went out to the godswood to pray. A great blizzard descended and I was hopelessly disoriented in the whiteout. Thank the Seven the Silent Brother here found me just in time! He provided warmth and shelter and he has been so kind to me, I cannot even begin to thank him." Sansa gushes, beaming at Sandor and Rafe by turns.

"Women, eh, Silent Brother? They would get lost in their own kitchen." Rafe chuckles and the other men follow suit. "Good timing your appearance just now-Elder Brother and I arrived only two hours prior. Be assured Lord Baelish will handsomely reward your care of his beloved daughter. Elder Brother is in the godswood overseeing a matter if you would care to join him." Bowing his head to Sansa, he continues, "Lady Alayne, won't you allow me to escort you into the Eyrie?"

Turning in the saddle, Sansa looks at Sandor. "No Ser Rafe, thank you. I would very much like to go to the godswood with the Silent Brother. I must give thanks for my preservation and return to the Eyrie-without the Seven's intervention I am sure I would not have survived such an ordeal." Drawing the reigns, Sandor turns Stranger toward the godswood. Rafe quickly interjects, "My lady that would not be advisable at present. There has been….an accident."

Gasping, for a moment the façade falters and genuine concern seeps into Sansa's mannered voice. "An accident you say? It's not Sweetrobin-"

Holding up his hand, Rafe stops her in mid-sentence. "No my lady, not the boy, thank the gods. It is with great regret I must inform you that it is your betrothed, Harrold Hardyng. I am very sorry Lady Alayne."

Choking out a sob, Sansa pulls out the handkerchief Sandor had given her long ago in King's Landing. Sandor recognizes it as the one he used to wipe the blood from her lip, thus thwarting her attempt on Joffrey's life. Biting the inside of her lip to elicit the desired reaction, tears spring into Sansa's eyes as the taste of blood fills her mouth. "Harrold…when? How could such a thing happen?"

Sandor grunts behind her as he watches her dry the single tear inching down her face. He is somewhat disturbed witnessing his honest Little bird singing a new refrain filled with the honeyed lies Littlefinger taught her to chirp, despite the necessity of her deceptive song.

Carefully concealing her feelings, Sansa averts her eyes under the pretext of sobbing into her handkerchief. In truth, Sansa knows full well Littlefinger is behind Harrold's untimely death. She has suspected he hatched devious plans against the young knight ever since he arrived at the Eyrie. While she made no secret of her indifference toward Harrold, she certainly did not expect him to turn up dead. "Please Ser, I must know."

Glancing quickly at the captain of the guard, Rafe hesitantly complies. "As you know he had been toasting your upcoming nuptials most ardently and sometime after the third phase of the moon he fell down the staircase. The poor young man broke his neck and back; the master assured Lord Baelish his death was instantaneous, if that is any comfort my lady."

"Who found him Ser? Oh, my poor father…" Sansa tisks lightly, shaking her head.

"Ahem, one of the ladies brought in for…entertainment found him."

Sandor coughs behind her, trying to cover up his snort of derision. Sansa exaggeratedly sobs in an effort to disguise his reaction. "Yes, well that is good to know. You have been most comforting, thank you. I will be going into the godswood now to pray with the Silent Brother, Ser Rafe." Sansa's tone brooks no refusal and without waiting for Rafe's reply she nods at Sandor, who turns Stranger once more onto the path to the godswood.

As the couple moves deeper into the weirwood grove, Sansa leans back and whispers to Sandor, "I just knew Petyr had some ulterior motive with Harrold-but I never would have guessed murder! Why would he kill him?"

Placing his lips to her ear, Sandor replies, "With Lord Hardyng out of the way, he can take full control of the Vale. With you as his bride-" Sandor pulls out the wedding announcement from his pack, "it would only be a matter of time before he conquers the north as well. None of the northman will balk at the husband of Lord Eddard Stark's eldest daughter."

Drawing in a sharp breath, Sansa rests her hand on her throat as she reads the invitation. "Gods be good-this cannot be happening!" Paling, she leans against Sandor and stifles the bitter sob rising in her throat.

Reaching around her waist, he presses her against his chest and then delicately turns her loose. "We'll get through this Sansa-Elder brother will help us and by gods I will get you out of here if it is the last thing I do on this miserable fucking earth! I will not fail you again."

It is the second time she has heard him use this phrase and she wonders at his meaning; however there is no time to ask him about it now. As they travel further into the godswood, the weirwood trees enormous branches create a beautiful red canopy overhead. Next to the Heart tree stands Petyr Baelish along with two Stone Crows and a brother of the Seven wearing brown robes similar to Sandor.

The dirt near the warm pool of the hot springs is disturbed and Sansa sees they have exhumed a large pit in the soft earth; inside there is a wooden casket containing the body of Harrold Hardyng awaiting burial. Jumping down out of the saddle, Sansa cautiously approaches Petyr. "Father-I am so glad to see you! I was caught out in the blizzard here in the godswood last night while I prayed for guidance on my upcoming marriage. The Seven heard my cries for help and sent the Silent Brother to my aid; I thought it only appropriate to come and offer thanks. Forgive me for causing you worry-did you come to pray for my safety?"

Narrowing his eyes at her, Petyr studies her a moment before allowing a terse smile to creep across his lips. "No, my dearest-you know I keep no gods, pardon me Elder Brother. There has been a terrible accident-are you not the least bit curious about what we are doing here?"

Bowing her head, Sansa whispers, "Forgive me, Father, but I am not, for Ser Rafe broke the terrible news on our way here. It seems I now have lost a husband and a fiancé in my short life."

Eyeing her suspiciously, Petyr replies, 'Yes, well it may be for the best yet my dear."

Raising her eyes, she asks, "Whatever do you mean Father?"

Chuckling humorlessly, Petyr jerks her by the arm closer. Poised for action, Sandor grips the pommel of his sword and starts to move forward before feeling Elder Brother's hand on his wrist.

Smirking, Petyr holds up the yellow satin bag Sansa made as a memorial for Sandor. "First I have some questions for you, my dear."

Sandor notices the Clegane sigil embroidered on the bag, and, puzzled, he waits to hear Petyr's next words.

Opening the drawstring, Baelish pulls out Sandor's bloody velvet Kingsguard cloak. "Look at what the men happened to unearth today. Care to offer an explanation, dearest daughter of mine?" He hisses through gritted teeth, barely restraining his fury.

Setting her shoulders, it is Sansa's turn to express her anger. "It is a memorial I made to honor the death of a beloved friend. Such is common among worshipers of the old gods and I thought the godswood was most appropriate as a holy place. I certainly had no idea it would be desecrated in such an unexpected manner. My mother taught me to honor my loved ones in such a way."

There is iciness in her words Sandor has only heard once before, when Joffrey taunted her by threatening to bring her Robb's head. "Maybe he will bring me yours," she retorted and Sandor remembers it was all he could do to not cheer her on, hearing the wolf in his little bird at last.

Elder brother gently interjects, "Most interesting, Lady Alayne. I have seen such devotionals all over the north."

Smiling, Sansa turns to Elder Brother. "Yes, though mine is quite modest by northern standards, I nevertheless wanted to honor my friend with a gift of his sigil."

Gripping her arm, Petyr pulls her close, her face mere inches away from his own. "You of all people would lower yourself to call the Hound a friend?" He scoffs derisively. Looking around at the men standing around him, he throws down the cloak at her feet. "Elder Brother, what say you to such talk?"

Recognizing the soiled Kingsguard cloak he left in her room the night of the Blackwater Battle, Sandor draws in a deep breath, barely managing to contain the violent surge of emotions in his heart. The very realization his beloved Sansa has cherished the final cloak he left with her breaches the last bitter fortification remaining around Sandor's hardened heart. Choking back his tears, Sandor fiercely struggles to suppress his emotions. Elder Brother glances at him for a moment, and then compassionately squeezes his arm with an understanding nod in his direction.

Sansa senses the surge in Sandor's emotions and her anger breaks forth unabated at last. "Yes Father, me of all people would call the Hound my friend! In fact, he was my only friend. He was protective and tried to help me understand the dangerous position I was in when not another soul even dared help me! No one bothered to notice the goodness within him. All anyone ever focused on was his scarred exterior, Father. I have not forgotten him nor will I ever forget his kindness toward me."

"Alayne, you forget yourself child. Stop this nonsense this very instant!" Petyr growls through gnashed teeth, glancing at Elder Brother out of the corner of his eye.

"No, I most certainly will not. I am not ashamed I made a memorial for Sandor Clegane." Shaking her head, she regards Petyr contemptuously. "You need not look so surprised, that is his name after all. You of all people appreciate how deeply I have grieved for him. I love him, Father, and I always will-and I will never forget all he did for me. So, be angry if you must but I will prepare another memorial for him." Bending down she gathers the sack and cloak laying discarded in the snow, carefully brushing the snow from the material with her fingers.

Seething with rage, Petyr yanks her to her feet. "I will burn those-those loathsome items before I allow you to do such a thing!"

Many years spent in King's Landing has taught Sandor the danger in Sansa provoking Littlefinger. Stepping forward, he longs to intervene but hesitates after Elder Brother silently bids him to refrain.

Sansa turns to Elder Brother, "Forgive me Elder Brother, Silent Brother-it is most unseemly for you to witness such a personal family disagreement. Our religious differences have caused several similar clashes in the past, I regret to admit. Would you please stay and offer prayers with me after I refresh myself? I long to give thanks for my safe return and must offer up prayers for my departed fiancé."

"It would be my pleasure, Lady Alayne. Silent Brother, I will accompany Lady Alayne to her rooms now; please unburden Lord Baelish and take up the spade-a man should not have to bury his own good son."

Without a word Sandor readily begins shoveling the damp earth while watching Sansa slowly move out of his sight. As he continues shoveling dirt over the top of the casket Sandor cannot suppress a wicked grin behind his cowl. In an unexpected turn of fate, Sandor feels it is most appropriate for him to bury Sansa's former intended husband on the very spot in which he plans to marry her. Oblivious to Sandor's dark thoughts, Petyr watches him a moment, then angrily hurries away to his solar.