To my readers: I just wanted to thank everyone for your support! I hope you enjoy this chapter-please feel free to review :)
Bitter tempestuous winds gust through the footpath of the godswood, rustling the blood-red leaves of the weirwoods, sending a deep shiver through Sansa's body. No longer the dutiful obedient daughter, she clutches Sandor's cape to her chest defiantly in front of all. Petyr stands glaring at her; the Stone Crows remain motionless, bewildered at this sudden turn of events. "Please Father, let there be an end to this-I am unwell and need refreshment." She knows full well there will be serious repercussions for her behavior later but in the moment she cannot bring herself to care and is solely focused on declaring her love for Sandor.
Ignoring the puzzled stares she holds her shoulders high, wearing her love for Sandor proudly in front of all even as her courage and anger begins to wane. Unsure how to carry on, Sansa feels Petyr's piercing wrath scorching her her back as she turns away, his gray-green eyes emanating simmering fury while he watches her take Elder Brother's arm and proceed toward the Eyrie. Though Sandor has vowed to protect her, Petyr is renowned for his ability to exact vengeance and Sansa has witnessed his ire reaching fruition often enough to give her pause.
Sensing Sandor's passionate gaze following her away from the godswood, she focuses on his deep abiding love, spreading warmth throughout her body despite the wintry chill in the air. His surge of emotion threatens to overcome her; she is at once deeply saddened and full of love, aching with longing and on the verge of tears and through the bond they experience an extreme emotional tumult as one in mind and body over the revelation of her memorial for him.
Behind her she hears Littlefinger stomp off and the soft thud of earth falling over the casket soon becomes the only sound in the godswood. Straining to maintain composure she turns her face towards Elder Brother. "What do you think of our godswood, Elder Brother?" she begins, her voice still trembling with weariness and apprehension. "Very beautiful my dear though I suspect it does not get a lot of use." Sansa laughs softly. "In truth, I am the only one worshipping there at present."
Once they are out of the godswood, Elder Brother stops and turns to face her. "There is no need for small talk my child. Please, let me help you." His words are soft and full of caring, touching Sansa deeply as she raises her eyes to his. "I cannot thank you enough for coming, Elder Brother. My situation is most desperate and there is no one I have been able to tell."
"Sandor has informed me of your circumstances; it is obvious you are not safe here. I devoted the time traveling here in prayer and I have confidence it is the will of the Seven that you leave this place. Would you like to be rejoined with Sandor Clegane?" Smiling broadly, relief washes across Sansa's face and happy tears well in her eyes. "Yes, oh yes Elder Brother it is all I have prayed and wished for these past months." Smiling, he takes her hand in his. "Love is a gift from the gods my dear and you and Sandor have a very special union-you owe it to yourself and him to explore this path."
Her face lights up with the first display of genuine happiness Elder Brother witnesses in her; she tightly holds onto him as he leads her inside. Patting her reassuringly he asks, "Do you have any idea what it is that Lord Baelish wants of you?" Lowering her eyes she pauses, almost too ashamed to speak. "I believe he wants my claim to the north as Lord Eddard Stark's daughter. He is very…physically inappropriate with me Elder Brother. I…I fear he killed Harrold Hardyng just so he may claim sole control of the Vale and marry me, assuming he can secure your cooperation. After that it would not be difficult for him take the north and Winterfell, my family's seat."
Pursing his lips, Elder Brother frowns and nods in agreement. "I agree my dear. It seems he strives for Harrold's favor while you are still lawfully wed and at the same time he seeks my permission to dissolve your marriage to Tyrion Lannister. What is more, he already has written to ask me to perform your marriage." Her face visibly paling, Sansa's eyes search his face. "Please Elder Brother-I cannot marry him!" she chokes out before dissolving in tears. "Have faith my child, the Seven sent us to you for a purpose and I will see it through, I promise you that." Pausing to allow Sansa to gather herself, he quietly asks, "What is the state of your union with Lord Tyrion?"
"We were wed forcibly and I was coerced into saying my vows, as was he-he was in love with my handmaiden with whom he lived prior to our marriage and continued visiting…conjugally afterward." Reddening, Sansa stops walking and looks down at her feet, collecting her thoughts. "Lord Tyrion never insisted on his husbandly due and thus we were never joined physically as man and wife."
"You are still a maid and under the threat of violence you were forced to repeat your wedded vows; do I understand you right?" He repeats her revelation incredulously; sadly Sansa nods in reply. "I see." Elder Brother comments, shaking his head. He has heard the Lannisters pay off the High Septon in Baelor handsomely to overlook their indiscretions, not the least of which is the incestuous relationship of the Queen mother with her twin brother, the captain of the Kingsguard.
Tentatively, Sansa resumes her story. "I know it was very wrong of me to go along with it. I have prayed about it daily ever since and have asked forgiveness. With the passage of time I feel certain neither the Seven nor the old gods honor such a union. Do you believe I have the proper understanding, Elder Brother?" Watching him closely, Sansa waits on tenterhooks for his reply. Arriving at her rooms, Elder Brother peers around before whispering his answer next to her ear. "You are a very devoted young woman Sansa, to both the old gods and the new. Your faith in the face of such adversity is most admirable. I am sure your prayers have been answered on the matter or else the gods would not have sent us to assist you. Rest assured that this marriage may be annulled, though typically it would require proof your maidenhead is intact." Elder Brother pauses and glances away from her, giving her time to digest his meaning.
Gasping, she blushes crimson and raises her hand to her throat; she did not anticipate needing an examination by a septa or septon to prove her virginity. "Is there any ahem-reason to doubt your claim…perhaps after spending an emotional night with a man deeply in love with you?" He smiles gently, raising his eyebrow; Sansa cannot help but giggle in spite of her embarrassment. "No, no dear Elder Brother; Sandor has always treated me with honor and continues to do so most consistently. My maidenhead is quite safe, I assure you." Little does he comprehend Sandor is not the one behaving wantonly.
Blushing, Sansa casts her eyes downward, dreamily reflecting back to earlier in the morning. Awakening nude in Sandor's arms, she reveled in the feel of his warm skin against hers and later, sitting on his lap with her arms around him. The whole experience was all so beautiful and exciting; being with him in such an intimate way felt utterly natural and right. Keeping her honor intact had been entirely his idea; left up to her she would have readily given herself to him, no matter the consequences. Clearing her throat, she forces her mind back to the subject at hand.
Elder Brother eyes her closely, suppressing a smile; he understands fully, for once he was deeply in love himself with a maiden very much like Sansa. "Forgive my impudence my dear lady but from my experience I believe you would not blush like sunset at the mention of your beloved unless you were indeed still a maiden." Grinning he squeezes her arm as she nervously laughs, her eyes still downcast with embarrassment. "Will you swear it on the Seven that you are still a maiden, Lady Sansa?" He inquires gravely and Sansa looks intently at him as she gives her reply. "Yes, Elder Brother I swear it on the Seven and on the old gods that I remain a maiden." Leaning closer, he asks, "Will you accept the damnation that awaits you in the afterlife should you choose to be less than honest with a holy brother of the Seven on this matter?" Sincere and definitive Sansa answers, "Yes, Elder Brother I do."
Making the sign of the Seven over her, he smiles and nods. "Very well, let me pray over the matter and I will give my answer soon my dear." Beaming, Sansa spontaneously hugs him close to her. "Oh thank you Elder Brother-thank you so much! Oh, dear-oh, forgive my impertinence." She sheepishly smiles as she turns him loose. Chuckling, he grins at her, "It is nothing my dear-run along and refresh yourself, child. I shall await you in the great hall."
As Elder Brother descends the stairs, Lord Baelish watches from his chaise in the center of the room with Ros reclining by his feet; several of his prostitutes as well as Harrold's remaining soldiers sit in repose around the well-appointed space. "Elder Brother, how do you find my beloved Alayne? Is she quite well after such a trial some morning?" Observing Petyr thoughtfully, he cocks his head and comes closer to him. "She is quite unwell, I am afraid. Spiritually she is in excellent condition, though physically-well, I believe she would benefit from some of my medicinal herbs. She has obviously been under a tremendous mental and emotional strain for quite some time."
Ros shifts uncomfortably and studies Petyr's reaction; looking over at him he rises and leans against the fireplace, sneering at Elder Brother, barely concealing his derision. Ignoring Lord Baelish's reaction, Elder Brother nods in greetings, then bows at Ros. "My lady, it is my pleasure to meet you." Scoffing, Petyr hands him a glass of wine and smirks at Ros, sarcasm dripping off his tongue. "Lady? Well my dear, there is a first time for everything isn't there?" Ros offers the barest whisper of a smile then turns away, clearly uneasy with the holy man directing his attention to her.
Turning to Elder Brother, Baelish knits his brow and scrutinizes his demeanor guardedly. "My good Elder Brother, if you cannot identify a common whore by sight, perhaps it is time you venture out from the Quiet Isle a bit more often, wouldn't you say?" The soldiers all laugh heartily and Petyr smugly grins at their bawdy response. Elder Brother smiles good-naturedly, trying to disguise his fast growing aggravation with his host. "I would be glad to offer the discreet hospitality of any lady you or the Silent Brother choose-come now, what say you?" Petyr chides, sending his guests into renewed fits of laughter. Their mirth is abruptly interrupted by Sandor entering the room, having finished burying Harrold Hardyng.
"Thank you Lord Baelish for the generous-albeit inappropriate-offer. Silent Brother and I only require warm accommodations and modest sustenance; we would not wish to trouble you." Sandor remains silent, unapologetically exuding simmering fury in the presence of those assembled. Disregarding his demeanor, Elder Brother smiles at Lord Baelish. "Might you show Silent Brother to our quarters Lord Baelish? I do believe he is in need of freshening up before prayers."
Smirking jovially, Petyr gestures toward the winding staircase. "I am afraid my only remaining room is in the private wing reserved for family. It is a bit more lavish, I hope you will find it pleasing despite your austere taste. It is located down the hall from Lady Alayne's room; see that you do not disturb her. Ros, would you show the Silent Brother to his quarters and offer him anything else he may require? There's a dear."
Extending a seductive smile, Ros loops her arm through Sandor's and begins to direct him upstairs. Jerking violently away from her, he casually pushes Ros in front of him, allowing her to lead the way at a more respectful distance, eliciting roars of laughter from Petyr and his guests. "It seems Silent Brother may benefit from our hospitality, too," Baelish laughs, raising his cup to Ros.
Elder Brother watches Sandor thoughtfully and then sharply turns back to his host. "We did not come to you Lord Baelish without invitation nor do we intend on staying solely to serve as the target of your ribald humor. I would request a private audience with you to determine how we may be of assistance to you. We do not wish to trouble you with our unwanted presence any longer than necessary."
"Indeed, Elder Brother. As you may have already noticed I am neither devout nor repentant to the Seven or any other gods. I am in need of your other…shall we say, influences for which you will be handsomely compensated. After your prayers with Lady Alayne I will meet you in my solar before supper-will that suit you?" Baelish tips his head at Elder Brother as he draws nearer. "You may leave your associate to his own devises; I do not include inferiors in my personal matters, I'm sure you understand."
"Certainly Lord Baelish. If you will excuse me I will go to the godswood to meditate. Please see that Lady Alayne is escorted to the Heart tree by Silent Brother." Not awaiting reply, Elder Brother bows and stalks out of the great hall, thus silencing all assembled.
Slowly ascending the winding staircase, Sandor follows Ros to the third floor of the castle. Never in his life has he been so grateful that conversation is not required of him, for she is the last person he wanted or expected to see in the Eyrie. Sandor does not wish to be reminded of the past and as the Hound he used to buy her fairly regularly in King's Landing. Familiar shame permeated his heart when he glimpsed her in the great hall and he is most eager to be rid of her.
He had never been a man partial to whores-one woman was no different than the next as far as he was concerned and whoever ignored his scars was acceptable for his needs. With Ros it had been different however, primarily because her red hair and fair skin reminded him of Sansa enough that he found her a satisfactory outlet for his ever growing lust. Sandor feels his stomach twist into knot knowing the two women now are under the same roof; his beloved Little Bird, the beautiful highborn maiden for whom he hungers and Ros, the high priced whore he greedily used as a substitute for her.
Out of the corner of her eye Ros glances curiously at the unusually large Silent Brother following her up the stairs. "Are you unable to speak at all or is it by choice?" she asks politely. Met with mute resistance she tries again, unsure how to engage a religious man in conversation. "You are so tall and broad chested you remind me very much of a man I used to entertain back in King's Landing-there's not many in the Seven Kingdoms your size, you know."
Grunting in reply Sandor continues onward, then suddenly distracted he pauses a moment in the passageway, reverently touching the heavily carved oak door in front of him. "Forgive me Silent Brother; this room belongs to Lady Alayne. Your room is down the hall this way," Ros hurriedly clarifies, being made anxious by his uncommunicative, perplexing behavior. Only when Ros gestures for him to follow her does Sandor turn toward his own chambers. Opening the door for him, she pauses to see if he requires anything further. Seeing the tub filled with steaming water, Sandor waves his hand gesturing her to take her leave, then locks the door and begins undressing for his bath.
As much as Sandor would like to take his time and enjoy a nice long soak, he feels compelled to hasten, knowing his Little Bird is waiting for him just a few doors away. Scrubbing himself thoroughly, Sandor then washes his long black hair twice to rid himself of dust from their travels. Quickly changing into clean clothing, he warily opens the door and examines the hallway cautiously before exiting his room. Finding himself alone, he swiftly advances toward Sansa's room.
Much to his surprise she opens the door before he knocks and greets him dressed in a turquoise silk robe, drawing his eyes to her delicate curves. Sansa's face lights up with joy when she sees him, her blue eyes sparkling and reflect the color of her robe. He notices her beautiful red hair is still damp from her bath and shines in the bright light of day. Though they have only been parted for a short time, he is once again taken aback by her beauty and Sandor remains motionless, staring at her with all his might.
Smiling warmly, Sana leads him inside and locks the door before wrapping her arms around his waist, pulling him close; his eyes fall on his cloak and the bag she embroidered for him sitting on her nightstand. "My love, I did not dare hope to see you alone so soon! Are you alright?" she asks, knowing he was deeply moved by her words in the godswood. Removing his holy robes, he nods tersely, still struggling to control the tidal wave of emotions Sansa's grief stricken devotion has awakened in him. "Yes, Little Bird-are you?" he asks softly, scooping her up in his arms and sitting her on his lap.
"Oh yes, I am fine as long as you are near." She blushes shyly and then relates her conversation with Elder Brother in detail while he strokes her hair affectionately. "It seems Elder Brother is inclined to annul your marriage to the Imp," Sandor remarks, gazing at her in wonder; he has lived in darkness so long it is still hard for him to accept beautiful highborn Sansa loves and wishes to be joined to him. "Marry me as soon as it is done Little Bird, swear it," he whispers, staring at her with such intense need it takes Sansa's breath away for a moment.
"Yes, my love I swear it," she breaths against his lips before pressing her mouth to his, passionately kissing him until they are both gasping with desire. Gently moving away from her, he touches the burgundy brocade gown she has draped over the weirwood bedframe. "Time to get dressed and go to the godswood," he says hoarsely, clearing his throat. "Yes, we should speak to Elder Brother together," she agrees, then steps behind the painted changing screen and removes her robe. The light from the fireplace illuminates the outline of her figure; try as he might, Sandor cannot tear his eyes away from her. Sansa holds his gaze while she changes and the look of deep longing in her eyes painfully hardens his manhood with aching need.
When she finishes she steps toward him, the laces of her gown gaping open, exposing her smooth back to him. "Would you please lace me up Sandor? I do not wish to call my maid." Coughing Sandor nods, his throat parched with yearning. Standing behind her, he has a perfect view of her smooth creamy skin and beautiful curves; how he would love to run his hands over her body as he loves her, tastes her, touches her in all the ways he has longed for these many years. Dispelling the lascivious thoughts from his mind, he pulls tightly on the fastenings and after much struggle he eventually manages to secure her gown.
Turning to him, she places her hand on his scarred cheek. "I meant every word I said in the godswood Sandor; I love you and I always will. I can never repay you for all you have done for me." Covering her small hand with his, he presses her hand to his face and raises his arm to her waist, drawing her body tightly against him. "I only want you, Little Bird; you are all I have ever wanted. I want to share my life and my bed with you; I want to be the father of your children. I need you Sansa, more than I ever thought possible and I swear on every god you worship I will kill anyone who tries to come between us."
When he draws her face up to his, Sansa's eyes brim with tears. Softly she kisses both of his cheeks and then his lips lovingly, running her hands through his hair. "Only death can separate us now, Sandor." Chuckling, he says, "I'm not so sure about that." Turning serious, he holds her face in his hands. "If I had known you would take the news of my death so hard Sansa I'd have found a way to let you know I was still alive. I would not have you mourn for me in such a grave manner, forgive me."
Placing her hands over his, Sansa gazes deep into his eyes. "It is the only way I am able to mourn for you my love. After experiencing what it means to lose you I pray my life ends before yours, if only so I will never suffer such agony again-I could not bear it a second time."
Never has anyone expressed such love and devotion to him and once more he finds himself overwhelmed, rendering him momentarily at a loss for words. Sandor chokes back his tears, brushing her cheek lightly with the back of his hand. "Aye my love, I wish the very same. I never want to see you in such a broken state again. You need not worry too much about my death any more Little Bird; Gregor is long dead and I am a hard man to kill."
Laughing in spite of her deeply emotional state, Sansa hugs him close to her body. "We should go now before Petyr becomes suspicious. Will you…come back tonight?" she asks shyly, her voice barely above a whisper. Barking out a harsh laugh, Sandor kisses the top of her head. "My room is only down the hall from you and besides I already told you woman, I'll kill any man that tries to keep me away," he growls into her ear and kissing her neck, the sensation dissolving Sansa into giggles.
Covering his face with his cowl, Sandor peers at his reflection and then at Sansa, who gingerly opens the door and peeks right and left in the hallway. She is glowing and more beautiful than ever, happily smiling at him. The color of the gown brings out the natural red in her hair and Sandor is certain she will have every man in the Eyrie's undivided attention. Satisfied no one is watching, Sandor follows her and offering his arm, he carefully guides her down the winding stairway.
As Sansa makes her way into the great hall, Petyr raises his eyes and watches her intently; she is wearing her hair long in the back and rolled up on the sides, similar to the way her mother always wore it. Taking note of the beautiful gown she has chosen he openly stares, barely bothering to suppress his desire for her. It is all Sandor can do to refrain from slitting his scrawny throat from ear to ear. Sidling up to Sansa, he takes her hand away from Sandor's arm and kisses it, then loops it through his own. "My dear you look lovely. I hope you are not too upset from our disagreement earlier." Demurely gazing up at him through lowered lashes, she shakes her head, "I have prayed privately about the matter. Thank you for your concern, Father."
Raising his eyebrow, he jerks his head at Sandor. "Really dearest daughter, do you think your gown appropriate for the godswood? It really is quite ornate and we would not wish to make our guests uncomfortable with our style of living." Ros darts a surprised look Petyr's direction, then shakes her head and looks away; she too noticed Sansa's gown but would not have risked dishonoring her in front of the others. Glancing around at the soldiers assembled, Sandor cannot repress a snort at Petyr's words; all eyes are on her and he recognizes Baelish is jealously marking her as his own in the presence of so many younger, more handsome admirers.
Running her hands over the bodice self-consciously, Sansa turns to Sandor. "Oh, no-how thoughtless of me! Forgive me Silent Brother; I will change if you wish it." Sighing, he shakes his head emphatically and then steers her closer to the door. "Father, I believe he wants to make haste to the godswood. Would any of our guests care to join us?" Sansa asks, scanning the room and noting the averted eyes and embarrassed grins of Baelish's party members.
Once outside, Sandor lowers the cowl and grins wickedly at her before recovering his face. "Beautiful is an understatement for you, Little Bird." Delighted, she lets out a giggle and squeezes his arm. "I dressed up for you my love, and you alone." As they enter the weirwood grove, he leads her off the path and pulls off his cowl, staring intently into her eyes. "Sansa, I have something to tell you about Baelish's woman, Ros."
"Oh, yes?" she answers, trying to suppress her smile. "See, back in King's Landing…I used to uh, well, buy her." Seeing him so contrite and worried, Sansa is no longer able to hold back; holding her sides she doubles over in laughter, much to Sandor's confusion. "Forgive me my love, I think I understand you. It is no secret that she serviced you; I heard that long ago in Winterfell when you came with King Robert."
Rubbing his hand down his face, he grits his teeth. "Just how the fuck did you hear about that? I'll cut the bastard's tongue out!" Reaching for his hand, she cannot help but resume her merriment at his reaction. "Arya told me, Sandor-she caught you two while she fed her horse. If you did not want to draw attention to yourself you should have taken her in her room rather than the stables like Stranger would."
Frowning at her, he walks a few steps away and mutters, "Hmm, the lot you know about such things-it costs more in her rooms and what I wanted didn't require a bed." Tweaking his cheek affectionately, she smiles up at him brilliantly. "I love you Sandor and I love that you felt the need to tell me. Please do not worry; I know such is the way with men and I have not given it a second thought."
Though embarrassed for possibly the first time in his life, Sandor finds it impossible to remain sober himself; for several minutes their laughter fills the quiet space of the godswood, drawing Elder Brother's attention. "I will meet you two at the Heart tree-we are supposed to be worshipping, after all," he chides them gently, winking at Sandor and then walking back into the godswood.
Taking him by the hand, Sansa nudges him softly. "Let us go pray and then we shall make our plans, my love," she whispers, drawing his hand up to her mouth and kissing it tenderly. Smiling, he kisses hers in return and for the first time, Sandor allows his heart to feel hope for the future.