Warning: This chapter contains violence and as Onborrowedwings would say, "a well deserved death".
The Stone Crow healer straps Elder brother to the pack-horse before slowly leading the frightened animal along the path. "Whatever creature is making that savage noise, it's just up ahead of us," Elder brother remarks.
Sansa senses Nymeria before she sees the enormous direwolf. Hurrying out to the trail, Sansa runs toward the snarls and screams and Sandor races to catch up to her. "Fuck, Sansa, wait!" he shouts, grabbing her arm and yanking her back to his side. "If that bloody beast up there is your sister's direwolf, she isn't a cub anymore. She may not even remember you."
"Let me go, Sandor, please!" Sansa cries, trying to free herself from his grasp. "Can you not feel her? The fury that has roiled inside me, the intense fear and pain I've experienced, now I understand that it was her, Sandor."
Shaking his head, Sandor rasps low in her ear. "How in seven hells do you explain such a thing?"
"I cannot tell you how; I only know it happened once before. It's as though my dread of Petyr recalled Nymeria's misery losing Lady and the alarm she felt when Arya chased her off. I shared her suffering then as did Arya and it is happening again now. Do you not recall how miserable I was on the King's Road after that day?"
"Aye love, you were sick with grief as I recall. Robert was worried, as was Jaime-he thought you might die from it, knowing the Starks have a connection to their direwolves."
"Nymeria sensed my anxiety with Petyr and responded-it drew her here. She will not hurt us, my love." Sansa places her hand over Sandor's heart, rubbing a small circle on his studded jerkin, willing him to share her feelings.
Sandor draws a deep breath and briefly closes his eyes. Focusing on slowing his breathing, Sandor struggles to calm himself and after a few moments he indeed feels something growing inside: a terrible, primal anger and yet he senses the origin of his emotion comes from outside his body. "Bloody hells Sansa," he mutters, placing his hand over hers and shaking his head in disbelief. "I do feel it… I feel her."
"Sandor, I know this is all very strange and difficult to accept. Please believe me; she has come to help us!"
"Alright then, let's go to her. Let's just pray we won't be ripped to shreds." Sandor says, drawing both swords. Without a word Sansa hurries on, the ferocious snarls growing louder the closer they get to the main entrance of the Eyrie.
When the couple rounds the bend, they notice Carrig and his men standing off to the side with swords at the ready, the men collectively shaking their heads in disbelief over the terrible sight before them.
Standing over the fallen horse is the enormous direwolf, full-grown and as large as a bear, her luxurious grey and white fur standing on end from haunches to tail and stained red around her snowy muzzle. Sandor draws back sharply, instinctively raising his arm protectively in front of Sansa.
"Nymeria!" she gasps at the sight of the enraged animal. The direwolf looks up, her huge jaws clamped down around Petyr's thigh and violently jerking her head to pull him out from under the dying pack-horse. Screaming, he flails his arms at her huge head, clumsily trying to stab at her with his jeweled short bladed knife.
Narrowing her yellow eyes, the animal pauses and dips her head low, cautiously sizing up the group before her. "Perhaps I should move away from you men," Sansa says softly, holding out her hands and moving slowly away from the others.
"Sansa, no! Fuck, don't do this!" Sandor growls low, reaching out to her.
"Stand beside me love. She knows you belong to me, I feel it." Walking slowly toward the ferocious creature, Sansa speaks softly. "Nymeria, do you remember me? Come here girl. I belonged to your sister Lady, just as you belong to my sister Arya."
Blinking rapidly, the animal slowly moves away from Petyr, seemingly transfixed by the sound of Sansa's voice. Warily she approaches the couple, raising her nose to smell the air. "Sandor, hold your hands out to her so she will see you mean her no harm."
"I doubt that bloody beast would fear the likes of me," Sandor grunts, fighting not to show his fear as the animal circles slowly, thoroughly sniffing him before moving on to Sansa.
Catching her familiar scent, the direwolf growls low, rubbing her flank against the young woman before dancing sideways, wagging her tail and whining low. Laughing, Sansa reaches out to her, wrapping her arms around the massive animal's neck and squeezing her close while Nymeria enthusiastically licks her face. "I knew you would recognize me, girl!"
The direwolf soon turns her attentions back to Sandor, wagging her tail and rubbing against him until he reaches out and scratches her chest, grinning at Sansa all the while. "She doesn't know she's no longer a cub," Sandor comments, his mouth quirking into a smile in spite of the terrible circumstances. "She doesn't seem so much different from a dog."
"Yeah, well I never saw a bloody dog kill a full-grown packhorse before, I tell you that," Carrig mutters, backing away. "That bitch felled that horse with one bite. If it's all the same to you Sandor, we'll just stay where we are."
"Sweetling, sweetling, help me. Get that beast away from me, do you hear me? I saved your life…I took you from King's Landing and brought you to safety. Have you so easily forgotten all I have done for you?" Petyr gasps out, still fighting to free himself from the horse.
At the sound of his voice a sharp fear pierces Sansa, sending a corresponding pain through Sandor and Nymeria sharply turns back to the injured man, positioning herself between Sansa and Petyr and snarling so fiercely Sandor feels the hair on the back of his neck rise.
"No! How dare you…you…you took advantage of my sorrow, my desperation…you would have forced yourself on me! The gods sent Sandor and Nymeria here to save me and I will not stop them from punishing you!" Sansa shouts, her voice quivering in a mixture of anger and fear.
Nymeria watches Sansa closely and then suddenly bounds toward Petyr, sinking her teeth into his shoulder and jerking him violently out from under the dead horse. Shrieking in agony, Petyr whimpers, "Sansa, you'll never make it without me, you're nothing without-"
At the sound of his voice Nymeria clamps down on his throat and drags him toward Sandor, reducing the man's words to a muffled scream. Dropping Petyr's limp form at his feet, Sandor watches in amazement as the direwolf noses him towards the body before lying down at Sansa's feet, slowly wagging her tail and watching him closely.
"She means for you to accept him as a gift of sorts," Sansa explains weakly, bending slightly to pat Nymeria on the head. "Greywind would offer Robb the rabbits he caught in the same way."
Sandor cautiously approaches the direwolf, holding out his hand and she responds by rising up and nuzzling him before lying in front of Sansa once more. Dragging Petyr over to a nearby rock, Sandor positions his body over the side.
"Lady Sansa, look away lass, you don't want to see this," Carrig says gently.
"No, no I will see the murderer of my father and aunt executed. It is the Stark way and I will honor my father by bearing witness to his death."
"Littlefucker, this is better than you deserve, you sick buggering bastard. Go to the seven hells knowing this is for Sansa, my wife," Sandor growls low, sharply bringing his greatsword down on Baelish's neck, removing his head with one stroke.
Sansa watches his blood pour out on the ground, staining the freshly fallen snow at her feet. Overwhelmed, the young woman feels as though a tremendous weight is removed from her shoulders. The agonizing pain, crippling fear and anxiety suddenly dissipate and Sansa slumps down into the snow as tears freely fall from her eyes in relief. "Sandor, I feel…I feel free…" She whispers in amazement when Sandor lifts her gently into his arms. "The pain, the fear…it is gone my love! Oh, I feel so much better now…I…"
"You're as weak as a lamb, lass. Let's get you back to my cabin," Carrig says, nodding at two of his men to bring another horse near.
"Can we not go back to the Eyrie? My cousin, my cousin needs to be buried," she chokes out, sobbing.
"Easy lass, we'll get him buried in the crypt. He'll keep in this cold, don't you worry none. We've got to rid the castle of Baelish's men. A man like him no doubt has his fair share of soldiers in the castle and Sandor will want to finish them before any escape."
"Go with the healer and Elder brother little bird. Listen to me now. I can handle these men," Sandor rasps low, kissing her hand.
"There are too many Sandor-Carrig is right about the soldiers. He brought in reinforcements just last night, the maid told me as she filled my bath. You men won't survive them, there are too many and…"
"My lady, it must be done. Otherwise one of those men will likely tell the queen of your whereabouts. All these men are all skilled in battle, not merely sellswords," Elder brother replies gently. "Come along with me now, and trust the Warrior to give Sandor the battle. Please, you must rest."
In the distance the sound of soldiers approaching echoes through the mountain pass. "An army? Gods…is it more of Petyr's sellswords?" Sansa gasps.
"No little bird. Sellswords don't march; more like its House Royce's men. I sent a raven day before last telling them of Petyr's treachery and of your captivity here. Elder brother included a sworn statement as to my innocence in the raping of the Saltpans and that Lady Brienne of Tarth executed Rorge, the real rapist and murderer."
"Oh, thank the gods! Did you receive a response from the Royces?" Sansa lets out a deep breath.
Elder brother smiles. "Yes, just before dawn. Baelish's…lady friend delivered it personally; Ros is her name. Baelish's man delivered it to their rooms. She did not tell him about it, though…she said she recognized Sandor but realizing he had come to rescue you, she kept our secret and brought the message to us instead."
Sansa raises her hands to her face in disbelief. "I cannot believe it! The entire time she knew Sandor had come to help me? Why would she keep such a secret from Petyr?"
"Little bird, Ros was there when Joffrey's men killed Robert's bastards, in fact some of them were infants she helped birth in Littlefinger's brothel. She knows you were good to Shae and kept her relationship with Tyrion a secret, and Shae told her how you prayed for the children in the sept during the massacre. She hasn't forgotten, and besides Littlefinger was hard on her."
"The gods remembered your kindness, Lady Sansa," Elder brother says calmly.
"I…I will never be able to thank them enough for all they have done for us," Sansa whispers.
"Stay true to what you know is right and the gods will help the both of you," Elder brother replies.
As the sounds of the soldiers draws closer to the Eyrie, Carrig and his men take positions inside the tree line, hidden from view. Nymeria perks up her ears and sniffs the air. Crawling low to the ground, the direwolf disappears into the dense shrubbery surrounding the path.
With Elder Brother aided by the healer, Sandor and Sansa move closer to the castle to await the Royce men in front of the Eyrie's massive outer gate. Soon a small retinue of soldiers comes into view, with Lord Yohn Royce's brilliant copper armor gleaming brightly in the afternoon sun.
"Bloody Bronze Yohn in the flesh," Sandor mutters as the large older man approaches with two other men in tow.
"Sandor Clegane, the Hound as was. I would know that scarred countenance anywhere," Lord Royce states flatly, carefully surveying him before turning to Sansa. "You must be Lady Sansa of House Stark, I would recognize that Tully red hair anywhere," he bows to her and Sansa smiles brightly, returning his gesture with a curtsey.
"Yes, Lord Royce, I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you. My father and uncle both thought very highly of you and your family. You honor the memory of my cousin Robert Arryn with your loyal service."
"Lady Stark, I am most pleased to meet Lord Eddard's eldest daughter. This is my son Ser Andar and my nephew Lord Nestor Royce. Our swords are yours," the intimidating man says while kneeling before her, his men quickly following suit.
"Arise my lords. I thank you for your loyal service to my uncle Jon Arryn and to his house. Please, I am in dire need of your help. The Lord Protector of the Vale Petyr Baelish has held me captive here for over a year, disguising me as his bastard daughter Alayne. He…he switched the medicines Maester Coleman used to treat my cousin Robert Arryn, the rightful Lord of the Eyrie with sweetsleep and he…poisoned him. He passed during the night and is awaiting burial. Petyr also threw my aunt Lady Lysa Arryn to her death out the Moon door. Please help me."
Frowning, Lord Royce grimly glances over at Nestor, who shakes his head and turns away. "Word reached us along the road here. My lady, I am truly sorry for your loss. This is most distressing news; I served House Arryn for years and considered Lord Jon Arryn a friend. His death was a great loss to Westeros and to lose him, Lady Lysa and young Robert is a grievous loss to the Vale."
"Thank you for your kind sentiments my lord."
"Where is Lord Baelish now? He must be brought to justice at once."
"Dead and burning in the seven hells as we speak," Sandor comments darkly. "His body is near the godswood. He's used a large band of sellswords to take over the castle."
"Lord Nestor, step forward man," Lord Royce commands. "My lady, this is my nephew Lord Nestor Royce, the High Steward of the Vale."
"Yes I am familiar with Lord Nestor," Sansa replies coldly, resting her hand on Sandor's arm. "In fact we have met once before. Lord Baelish bribed you with the promise of permanent possession of the keep in the Gates of the Moon to keep his secrets, is that not so?"
Lord Royce and Andar turn and glare at the man in question while Sandor flexes his grip on his greatsword, waiting. "Answer Lady Sansa, now."
"I would not call it a bribe, merely an agreement," Nestor begins.
"Are you calling my lady a liar?" Sandor rasps out, drawing his sword; Sansa steps forward and stills his hand.
"I was present for the conversation or have you forgotten? Perhaps you felt a young maiden would not understand the intricacies of the alliance you forged with Lord Baelish. You are much mistaken. I heard you at accept Lord Baelish's offer at my lord cousin's very table or do you deny it?
"Well, yes, Lord Baelish did make such an offer to me, once the War has ended," Nestor stutters out.
Lord Royce sighs deeply and motions for his son Andar to come forward. "My Lady, I will deal with these matters personally, you have my word as head of House Royce. With your approval I will lead my men into the Eyrie and free the castle of Baelish's men."
"Yes, Lord Royce that is exactly what I wish," Sansa states, faltering slightly; Sandor reaches around her waist to steady her.
"Clegane, you have no right to touch Lord Stark's daughter in such a familiar way," Lord Yohn barks out, stepping forward.
"You are much mistaken," Sansa replies evenly, placing her hands over his arm. "Sandor Clegane is my husband, Lord Royce. We were wedded before the gods by the Elder brother here in the godswood without Lord Baelish's knowledge."
"Indeed Lord Royce, she speaks truly. I performed the wedding myself," Elder brother affirms.
"I see," Lord Royce sniffs. "Clegane is certainly beneath your station my lady and without your family to guide you I see you made a rather reckless choice for yourself."
"No, indeed for we are bonded by the gods Lord Royce. I do not expect you to understand and I have no interest in discussing this further now. I trust this does not change your loyalties to Houses Stark and Arryn."
Lord Royce sighs. "No my lady, of course not, forgive me for speaking out of turn. I confess I had hoped to make a marriage alliance between our families, Lady Sansa."
Sandor snorts derisively in response while Sansa merely nods coolly, holding her head high. "Yes, well, be that as it may, my lord, it is quite impossible now. I must insist my husband be treated with the same honor you have afforded the rest of my family."
"Yes, my lady," Lord Royce bows. "Are you alright Lady Sansa?" He asks, noticing her thin frame and pale pallor.
"I am afraid I am most unwell after such an ordeal and I have been deeply grieving my family. I'm sure you have heard what has befallen my lady mother and brothers." Lord Royce nods solemnly.
"My lord, I wish to move to a nearby cabin while this matter is handled, if it pleases you. I must rest. Please see to my cousin's body as well," Sansa replies, gesturing toward the horse.
"Of course, my lady. Please, allow my men to escort you there."
"That will not be necessary my lord. The man who owns the cabin is of the Stone Crow clan and is a good friend to my husband and me. I would have him take me there, along with Elder brother."
At Sansa's words Carrig and his men show themselves, startling the retinue of soldiers. "It would be my pleasure, Lady Sansa," Carrig bows and then motions for the healer to bring Elder brother near.
"What of Clegane, my lady?" Ser Andar asks quietly. "If it pleases my lords, I wish him to join you men representing House Stark as my husband. Sandor is experienced in battle and knows Lord Baelish's men as well as the layout of the castle. Is that agreeable to you?"
"Yes, we know he was once in the service of Joffrey Baratheon."
"That was long ago and he left their service," Sansa says coolly. The men glance at each other and quickly assent.
"Also, there is a woman inside; Ros is her name. Please see that no harm comes to her, she has assisted us greatly and I wish to reward her."
"Yes my lady, no harm will befall her, I give you my word," Ser Andar bows and then turns to his father.
"Lady Sansa, I would see you safe at the cabin before we take the castle. I will have my men surround the Eyrie and secure its perimeter while your husband sees you off," Lord Royce states, taking her small hand in his. "I could not rest easy otherwise."
"That is most kind of you, Lord Royce," Sansa smiles, patting his hand gently.
"Take care of your lady wife, Clegane. We will be ready by the time you return," Lord Royce nods before turning back to his men.
Within the hour the small group reaches Carrig's cabin, where Sandor helps the healer get Elder brother settled before carefully placing Sansa on the bed, tucking her under the furs. "I'll return shortly Sansa. By the time the sun sets this will be over, believe that."
Gently cupping his cheek, Sansa covers his mouth in a slow, deep kiss. "I'll pray for your success and safety my love. I will pray for you as I did the night of the Blackwater battle."
Swallowing hard, Sandor chokes back his emotion as he bends down to kiss her once more. "You do that, little bird."
"You will return to me, I know it," Sansa whispers, tenderly stroking his face.
"The Warrior himself couldn't keep me away from you, then or now." Sandor winks at her before quickly mounting the horse and returning to the Eyrie.