Riding back to the Eyrie alongside the Stone Crows, Sandor allows his mind to drift back to his beloved Sansa. Though she is several miles away, he feels her presence as though she is right beside him and through their strange and powerful connection he experiences the little bird's emotions, her newfound relief, happiness and peace resonating through the man's heart.
When he said goodbye to her, she was resting in Carrig's cabin with Nymeria dozing at her feet. The drawn look of agony had disappeared from her beautiful face and a warm rosy glow was returning to her cheeks before his eyes. She looked exquisite nestled under the furs, her lips curling into the special smile she reserves only for him as she waved goodbye.
He is confident she will be able to heal both mentally and physically now that she is no longer threatened by Littlefinger. Through the bond, Sandor still feels Sansa is inextricably a part of him, her thoughts and feelings rooted into his soul. From the moment his blade met the flesh of Baelish's neck, Sandor experienced a tremendous release of both emotional and physical pain. The intense tension and anxiety he suffered since dreaming of Sansa at the sept instantly disappeared, and with it the searing agony in his stomach that plagued him even as he despaired for Sansa's well-being.
Sensing his wife is free of her misery, Sandor wonders if the end of her suffering signals the partial fulfillment of the bond. The idea strengthens his resolve to rid the Eyrie of Baelish's men, longing to bring the matter to an end once and for all. I will erase any trace of Littlefucker in the Eyrie and the Seven save any man who dares stand in my way, he swears ominously, mentally preparing himself for the battle ahead.
Where once he felt restrained by the bond, fearing his wrath might somehow damage Sansa's fragile health, now he feels liberated, able to give full vent to the Hound. The vicious, bloodthirsty side of his personality no longer consumes him, living only for revenge against his brother. Now rid of his bitter rage, Sandor controls the Hound and uses his formidable battle skill solely for the protection of his wife, driving him to do all he can to assure her safety.
Hastening to the castle gates, the men hear the clashing of steel, shouting and the pitiful cries of the wounded echoing through the mountain pass. "Arm yourselves, men. The battle is already underway, Clegane," Carrig shouts, drawing his sword. Sandor and the Stone Crows jump into the fray, slashing their way through the sellswords as they slowly advance on the entrance of the Eyrie.
"Remember lads, don't hurt the servants or the woman Sansa described," Sandor growls through gritted teeth, shoving a man aside before running him through with his greatsword. Bound as he is to Sansa, Sandor views each man as a danger to her well-being, an enemy to be disposed of as quickly as possible in his merciless onslaught of the castle.
Upon hearing the Hound is alive and waging war against them with the Royces, many of the mercenaries give up and flee, only to be caught and executed by the Stone Crows waiting along the perimeter of the castle walls. Fighting their way toward Bronze Yohn, Sandor joins the Stone Crows and the Royce men on the battering ram, laboring to breach the massive weirwood doors of the castle. After much struggle the doors finally give way and the men rush inside, only to be met by a second wave of sellswords in the Crescent Chamber.
The fighting is brutal and over as quickly as it begins, the initial battle giving way to a bloody game of cat and mouse inside the cavernous alcoves and inner passageways of the castle. The Royce men go from room to room in search of hidden sellswords, thus meticulously ridding the Eyrie of all remnants Baelish's hired army. By nightfall the battle is over and Bronze Yohn's men declare victory. During a regrouping in the High Hall of the Arryns, Lord Royce assigns small groups of soldiers to execute the surviving sellswords while others are charged with ridding the castle of any signs of bloodshed and disposing of the dead.
Slowly the hall is filled with the servants, maids, cooks and other assorted workers serving the castle, brought out of hiding by the Royce men. Puzzled, Sandor glances around. "Have any of you men seen the woman my wife told you about?"
"The only women we found are servants and Baelish's whore," Nestor Royce calls out. "I doubt Lady Sansa meant her, for all her good will."
"Fuck what you think. The woman you found is one and the same and she will be kept safe, along with the rest of the women. I will not tolerate any bloody rapists in my wife's family seat. Bring her to me," Sandor swears, shaking his head.
"None of you men abuse the women here, understand?" Bronze Yohn reiterates loudly, silencing the reverie of the soldiers. "The Lady Sansa Clegane wishes them kept from harm. Need I remind you she is Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell's daughter and first cousin to the deceased Lord Robert Arryn? You men will obey her or stand guilty of treason."
Carrig comes forward, tugging on a frightened Ros' arm, leading her through the assembled soldiers toward Sandor and Lord Royce. "Come on lass; no one will hurt you. Clegane's lady wife commanded you be kept safe and these men answer to her. There's the man now."
"Sandor Clegane, as I live and breathe," Ros begins, cautiously observing the men around her while she nervously fidgets with the layered skirts of her gown. "I knew I recognized you, despite those holy robes you were wearing the day you and Elder brother came to us."
Snorting, Sandor nods. "I figured you might at that."
"I just knew if you were alive you would come for her. So, you managed to court and marry Lady Sansa right under Littlefinger's nose, huh? Good on you, man."
"Aye that I did. How would you of all people know I would come for her?" Sandor frowns at her, his curiosity piqued by her words.
"My livelihood depends on my ability to read men, you know. Once I saw the way you looked at her in King's Landing, it didn't take long for me to realize why you favored me over the other girls in the brothel. It was because my red hair and fair skin reminded you of her and I used such to keep you coming back to me. You're not the toughest man to figure out, though a hardened killer to be sure."
Scowling, Sandor notices the men glance at him interestedly, though no one as much as dares snicker at her words. "Bugger your tricks of the trade, wench. You speak right; once I was a hardened killer but no longer, though make no mistake: it's easy enough to recall the Hound if need be. You best keep that in mind before you run your mouth off again."
Grinning, Ros nods in assent. "Have it your way, Hound. I didn't mean to embarrass you in front of the men."
"Bugger that, and enough with the chat. Sansa holds no ill will to you, no matter that you lived her with her captor and did your business in her cousin's ancestral home." Taking a deep breath to still his anger, he continues. "For delivering the raven to Elder brother and keeping my identity secret, my wife and I owe you a debt of gratitude. To that end, Sansa wishes you kept safe and offers the chance to start over once you leave this place."
"Lady Sansa is a proper lady and a kind one, too. No matter what you may think of me, I'd not see the child hurt by Littlefinger. She prayed for us, you know. For all of Littlefinger's brothel girls, when King Robert's bastards were killed. No lady has ever done that for me. She was always kind to me here and I'll not forget it."
Grunting, Sandor nods. "My wife has a generous heart, one I suggest you not try to take advantage of at that. She desires me to say you are free to go or you may stay here until your arrangements are made to go elsewhere. I would ask that if you want to keep on my good side you not return to King's Landing. Braavos or Drone would be a better turn, and one that is not open for discussion, understand?"
Relief spreads across her face and Ros takes a deep breath. "I believe I will be able to start a fairly good business in Dorne, I know people there. I'll buy passage as soon as I'm free to do so and be out of your way."
"See that you do. One of Royce's men will see you keep your word. You'll not speak of us to anyone, understand? If I so much as hear a whisper of anything that has transpired here I will hunt you down, believe that. Once all is settled you take what you're owed from Littlefinger's coin and if you mind yourself my wife and I will see the amount added to as well.
"Alright, then. You have a deal, Clegane."
Narrowing his eyes, Sandor steps forward and pinches her chin with his mailed fingers. "You will not patronize the men while you are a guest here, got it?"
Smirking, Ros grins at him. "I understand. Don't worry, Clegane, I won't shame your lady wife's house."
"You'd better not, if you know what's good for you. If I catch you fucking any one of these soldiers, I'll toss you out myself and the seven hells with our agreement. Same goes for you men. You leave her and the rest of the women alone or I'll kill you myself." Focusing on each of the soldiers, Sandor menacingly glowers at each of them before returning his attention to Ros. "You abide my wishes and you'll have no trouble."
"Lady Sansa has been kind to me. I won't shame your wife. I swear it." She smiles coyly at him, twisting one of her curls around her finger.
"Your word don't hold much with me, woman. I've seen you work, remember? Paid for it, too. You can thank my wife when you see her," Sandor growls low before gesturing for the soldiers to return her to her rooms.
Once Ros and the servants are gone, Bronze Yohn allows the somewhat subdued celebration to begin, the men keeping a respectful tone due to the loss of young Robert. "You men, enjoy Baelish's best. You earned it." Shouting and praising their conquering lord they eagerly helping themselves to Baelish's stock of Dornish red, honeyed ale and rich delicacies.
"Have a drink with us, Clegane?" Lord Royce asks, handing him a goblet of honeyed ale.
"No, I must return to my wife," Sandor rasps low. "The Eyrie is under your control now, Lord Royce. You do as you see fit."
"Be that as it may, I would have your wife sit in counsel with me tomorrow after the noon meal, if she is well enough. There is much to discuss and afterward I will see to it Lord Robert Arryn is laid to rest. The maester is preparing the boy as we speak."
"I'll let her know. I'll send word if she is unwell tomorrow morning, " Sandor grunts, turning to leave. "You let these Stone Crows eat and drink their fill, you hear? If not for them my wife would not have survived. Chief Carrig allowing us the use of his cabin saved her life and his men came to our aid in the godswood. See that you don't forget it."
Lord Royce grins knowingly. "Of course, Clegane. They earned their bounty the same as my men, and fought along with us as brave as any men I've commanded. Go see to your wife."
Sandor saddles Stranger and hurries back to Sansa as nightfall reaches the Vale. Leading the mighty warhorse through the switchbacks on foot, Sandor eases his way along the hidden path for an hour before the well-lit cabin comes into view. As he ties the horse to a nearby tree, Sandor is suddenly hit with the weight of his beautiful little bird, laughing and clinging to him, covering every area she is able to reach with kisses.
"What are you doing out in this bloody cold? You should be under the furs," he growls, his burned face twitching into a grin at the sight of her.
"I sensed you were coming and I just had to come out and meet you. You are well enough, I hope? I felt no injury come to you." Sansa says, eagerly looking him over for wounds.
"I am more than well, wife," he smiles down at her. "Where is that bloody direwolf?"
"She went out hunting at dusk. Come, my love, Elder brother is just about to go back to the Vale," she beams up at him, hugging his large arm close to her chest. Out in front of Carrig's cabin, Sandor watches as two Stone Crows lift Elder brother on to their pack horse.
Whistling low, Sandor approaches the animal, patting the holy man on the leg. "Seven hells, Elder brother, where do you think you're going? You were run through just a few hours ago. Do you believe it is safe for you to ride just yet?"
"I'm in no need of your healthful suggestions, Sandor; I am the healer, remember? Besides, the throbbing in my chest is doing a well enough job of keeping me aware of my limitations at present."
"You want me to take you back to the Eyrie? I'd rather do it myself, no slight against the men."
"Please, stay here and attend to your wife, Sandor. I am quite all right, no fever or sign of infection, there's just a matter of the pain," Elder brother smiles wanly. "It is no more than I expected, and I've suffered much worse in my day."
Grunting, Sandor nods at the holy man while Elder brother looks him over. "So I take it your endeavor was successful? Lady Sansa sensed you were most pleased and had not suffered injury."
Glancing at Sansa, Sandor nods. "Yes, Baelish's men are gone. Lord Royce's men are, uh, celebrating a bit as well as cleaning up the remains of the battle." He is unwilling to say openly there are many dead and dying sellswords still about the Eyrie in front of Sansa.
Elder brother nods knowingly. "Yes, I imagine there is quite a bit that needs finishing up. I must return to the Eyrie for supplies as well as tend to the spiritual needs of the boy. Is the maester still at the castle?"
"Yes, Lord Royce said Maester Coleman was tending young Robert as I left. Are you sure you don't want me to take you back?" Sandor asks with a note of alarm.
"No lad; I am only in need of some milk of the poppy, some fresh bandages and a soft bed. I trust you will not be taking Lady Sansa back there this evening?" Elder brother asks suggestively. Not wanting to alarm her about the bloody state of the castle, Sandor watches Sansa expectantly, allowing her response before offering his own suggestion.
"No, Elder brother, I do not wish to go back there just yet. I am sure Lord Royce will let me know when he is ready to receive me at the Eyrie."
Relieved, Sandor pulls her close to him. "Aye, love, you have the right of it. He wishes to conference with you tomorrow afternoon before the interment of your cousin, if you are feeling well enough. Lord Royce still needs time to…prepare for your return."
"Sandor, Elder brother, remember my father and brothers were men of battle. Though I was raised sheltered to some extent I understand your concerns, though I appreciate the delicacy in which the two of you discuss such matters in front of me," Sansa smiles, her eyes twinkling. "Rest assured, I will not return until all is secure and please, do not hesitate to return to us should you require anything further."
"I will, Lady Sansa. Get some rest, the both of you," the man responds before leading the horse and Elder brother back on to the trail. "I'll see you on the morrow," Elder brother calls out from the darkness, the sound of hooves fading into the night.
Watching the men ride away, Sansa feels her husband's desire for her coursing through his body, flooding her senses. "I prayed for you," she smiles, leading him by the hand inside. Scooping his little wife into his arms, Sandor carries her over the threshold. "I felt you as I traveled here," he whispers in her ear, kissing her softly.
"As I felt you; I knew you were unharmed and…I felt your eagerness to return. I put together a modest dinner for us," Sansa blushes, motioning to the small table. "It is perfect, little bird," Sandor says, and means it.
"I have hot water ready for you as well, should you wish to clean up," Sansa gestures over to the screened area beside the bed. "Aye, I'll do that," he grins wickedly at her, removing his armor and tunic while watching her blush an even deeper shade of red. "Why so shy, my lovely little bird?" He laughs while lathering his hands and face.
Sansa remains quiet for a few moments, gathering her thoughts. "I'm just so overwhelmed, being here with you again. I… I cannot help but think of how we were here a few days ago, how relieved I was to see you alive and well. Our situation is so different now…so much has happened."
Drying his hair and chest, Sandor nods gravely. "I know, love. We are now wed, joined in body as well as soul. It eases my mind, looking at you now and seeing so much improvement in your demeanor." Moving next to her, Sandor gently traces the back of his hand along her cheek before slowly running his thumb over her lower lip. "By the Seven, you're a beauty and being with you is better than I ever hoped to have in life."
Turning her back to him, Sansa pulls her hair over her shoulder. "Unlace me, my love," Sansa whispers, glancing back at him, a small smile playing across her face as he frees her from her gown. "Come, I wish to hold you in my arms as I did after you found me," she beckons, climbing under the furs in only her bottom smallclothes. Sandor swiftly removes the rest of his clothing and joins her, gathering her close in his arms.
Slowly Sansa caresses his face, mapping each feature with her soft fingertips as she speaks. "I was so distraught…I could hardly believe you were with me and there was much I wanted to say to you. It felt like I dream, though through our connection I knew it was real." Overwhelmed by emotion, Sandor remains quiet as he sees tears welling in her lovely eyes.
"For so long I prayed for you, begging the gods to return you to me. I could not bear to think you had died, that you would never know how much I love you." Looking into her lovely blue eyes, Sandor nods, gently running his thumb along her jaw line. "I sat by the Heart tree every day, mourning you…you left a terrible emptiness in my heart. The gods knew I could not live without you. Your return is the answer to my prayers, my love," she whispers, tenderly kissing both sides of his face before nuzzling into his beard.
Hearing the little bird give voice to her grief, her love and passion for him touches his very soul. Unable to speak, Sandor buries his face in her neck, softly kissing the curve of her neck and shoulder while running his hands over her back and hips in soothing circles. "Shh no more of that, Little bird. Those times are over, for both of us. We are man and wife now, and I'll do my damnedest to make sure you never again suffer such misery the rest of your days," he manages after several long moments.
The feel of his muscular arms surrounding her as she relates her experience at once fills her heart with desire for him and soothes the raw pain of her emotional state. Trailing her fingers along the muscular ridges of his back, Sansa sighs contentedly at the sensual feel of Sandor's warm skin against her own, the hardness of his arousal pressing urgently against her woman's place. "My love, I dreamed of you and I like this so many times…my body and heart both ached for you, your touch and your lovemaking," she whispers, wriggling out of her smallclothes before easing his own down his hips, freeing his manhood.
Making her way down his body, Sansa kisses each scar marking his chest and stomach, tasting each one until she reaches his scarred hip, carefully running her hands over the puckered red flesh. "Your body will only know pleasure with me all the days of your life," she murmurs against him, gently running her tongue over the area. "Who did this to you? I hope they suffered for their cruelty," Sansa comments, rubbing her cheek against the warm soft skin of his muscular thigh.
"I got that in a fight when I had your sister with me. I killed the bastard who dealt it. I could not take care of it proper and so it got infected. I nearly died; that is how I ended up on the Quiet Isle. Elder brother cut out the infection and tended me."
"Thank the gods," she purrs against his skin, delicately caressing his body before taking him in hand and slowly running her tongue over the tip of his manhood. Gasping, Sandor fists her hair as she moves to take him deeper into her mouth. "I've longed to give you such intimate kisses, my love. Allow me this." Many times in the Eyrie she had dreamed of having him this way and experiencing this intimate connection with Sandor physically fulfills her body as well as her heart.
Relenting, Sandor relaxes his hold even as he feels her take him completely into her mouth for the first time. "My love, my beautiful little bird," he rasps low, panting with anticipation. Drawing him deep into her lush mouth once more Sansa begins tasting and suckling him tenderly, her beloved husband writhing and moaning with abandon in response to her ministrations. Feeling his thigh muscles tensing, Sansa stills her movements, gently releases him from her mouth and then moves to straddle his lap.
With a deep moan Sandor draws her up into a sitting position with him and heatedly kisses her throat and neck, nibbling and tasting along her collarbone before taking her breast into his mouth. The feeling of his wet tongue circling her nipple elicits a long moan from Sansa, and steadying herself over his hips, she slowly sheathes his manhood inside her warm wet center. "Sansa, oh gods woman you feel good," Sandor manages to choke out as he thrusts deeper into her while she reaches back to rest her hands on his thighs, arching against each movement of his hips.
"Oh, yes, my love," Sansa gasps out, rocking her hips in time with is thrusts. Growling low, Sandor pulls away from her and turns her on her side, causing Sansa to whimper out in frustration. "I want to love you in a different way. Draw up your knees, Sansa," he rasps, his breath hot against her ear, thrusting deep inside of her as she does so.
"Please Sandor, more," Sansa sobs out, the new position allowing his manhood to massage a sensitive place deep inside of her with each thrust, sending waves of pleasure surging through her body. Sandor speeds up his movements in response, desperately driving his manhood into her with abandon. Suddenly his thrusting become erratic as Sansa's muscles tightly grip his throbbing member, bringing each an exquisitely powerful release. Their love cries echo throughout the small cabin and Sandor slows his movements, allowing Sansa to ride out her peak as he gradually comes down from his own.
Shifting, Sandor moves her to rest on top of him, savoring the feel of her supple body against his own, unwilling to withdraw from her warmth just yet. He has never known such fervent love and affection, and Sansa's passionate lovemaking fulfills him in ways he never knew possible. Resting in each other's arms, the couple feels the bond growing ever stronger between them, uniting them in heart even as their bodies are intimately joined together.
"I love you, Sansa, my beloved wife," Sandor whispers into her hair, languidly stroking her back, relishing the feel of her soft curves under his hands. Cuddling into his embrace, Sansa gently circles patterns on his chest. "As I love you, Sandor. You complete me, body and soul. I am so grateful our bond unites us in such a deeply intimate, powerful way. I hope it will always be thus between us."
"From your mouth to the god's ears, lass," he whispers before tenderly kissing her, the man feeling his arousal suddenly surge once more. "I mean to take you again, wife," he groans against her shoulder before leisurely sucking on the tender flesh of her neck, her pulse fluttering madly against his lips.
"Yes, as many times as you wish my love. We have the whole night ahead of us," Sansa murmurs into his hair as she wraps her legs around his waist, drawing his hardened manhood against her woman's place once more.
Sandor and Sansa indulgently spend the rest of the night alternate between making love and sleeping just as they did on their wedded night, taking full advantage of the peace and solitude the cabin affords them. "I cannot live without you," Sandor whispers as he watches the early morning light filter in through the curtains. Sleeping peacefully on his stomach, Sansa only snuggles down further against him in response to the sound of his voice. "No matter what the future holds or what Lord Royce plans for the Eyrie, the Warrior himself could not separate us. I will not allow it, my love. Never again."
The rumbling of his rasping voice awakens Sansa in time to hear his whispered declaration. Curling her hand around his neck, she gently draws his mouth down to hers and covers his lips in a long, slow kiss. "I will never allow it either, my love."
"Lord Royce will make you an offer to rule the Vale I believe, in hopes it will allow you to retake Winterfell. Is that what you wish for, Sansa?" Sandor asks, propping himself up on one elbow to look at her.
"The gods will return Winterfell to my family, just as they returned you to me. When the time comes, they will see my family restored to our ancestral home, of that I am certain, and I need you beside me when that time comes." Cupping his cheek, Sansa gazes into his eyes, noting the uncertainty she sees there. "Petyr taught me a few very bitter yet important lessons about power, Sandor, ones I will not easily forget. I care not for the plans of men or for the dominance they strive after, oblivious to the lives they destroy in the process." Sighing, she pauses a moment, trying to gauge his response to her words.
"My father went against his better judgement and chose duty over his family. He paid a terrible price for not listening to his heart. I will not shirk my duty but neither will I sacrifice my loved ones or our happiness as a family. The price is far too high to even consider. Truth be told, I do not desire to rule and even if I did, knowing them as I do I sincerely doubt the lords of the north would accept a woman ruling over them. Sandor, I will never allow my family to experience what I have suffered, you must believe that."
"Aye, I believe you wife, I feel the truth of your words inside," Sandor rasps low, snuggling her tightly against his chest once more. "We'll know more of the lord's plans once you sit in counsel with old Bronze Yohn and his sons."
"We will sit in counsel with him together, my love. I would not think of meeting them without you beside me and I will not allow them to dictate who is present for our meeting out of some antiquated sense of formality."
"The wolf is returning stronger than ever in you, wife," Sandor grins before passionately kissing her, his heated caresses leaving no doubt in Sansa's mind that, as far as her husband is concerned, the subject of who will rule the Vale is closed for now.