Thank you for reviewing-it feeds the muse! This is the second to the last chapter and then I'll write a epilogue :) Thank you for sticking with it through all my ups and downs-you guys are the best!
Sighing heavily, Sandor's deep gray eyes simmer with fury as he glares at the pair. "Mayhaps I won't kill either of you just yet. I have another idea."
"Another idea?" Ros asks weakly, glancing at the young man beside her.
"I've got a job for the two of you, and you'll both do it gladly or else die right here. Your choice."
"Oh yes, Hound, whatever you wish! I have plenty of gold, and-" The young man begins, suddenly reaching into his breeches. With feline agility, Sandor leaps to his feet and edges the blade of his katar along the hapless fellow's throat.
"Shut the fuck up, runt. If you so much as speak or even move without my leave, I'll cut out your tongue," Sandor rasps low. "That goes for you, too," he nods toward Ros. "What is your name, boy?"
"Ser Mychel Redfort of House Redfort, ser."
"I'm no ser," Sandor sneers, shaking his head. "You're old Bronze Yohn's goodson, aren't you? You wed his only daughter. He won't take kind to learning I found you rutting Littlefinger's whore," Sandor laughs, the sound like dogs snarling in a pit.
"No, ser-uh, I mean, no Hound. Please don't tell him! I've-I've been away from my wife a long time yet and needed a woman's company! Ysilla and I were practically forced to wed, and-"
"Boy, I don't care if you fuck your way from here to King's Landing," Sandor snorts. "You're no different than the rest of these so-called honorable knights running around here. I won't tell the old man, but that's two favors you owe me now."
Knitting her brows, Ros asks, "What are you about, Hound?"
"I'll get to you in a minute; I'm not done with the boy yet," Sandor growls, looking him over. "You a good rider, Redfort?"
"Yes, I am. Quick as can be."
"Good. Can you write and figure?"
"Yes, my maester taught me as a boy."
Sighing Sandor sits down and takes a quill and inkwell from the desk in the solar. "Here. Write me out a bill of sale. You're buying my wife's mare."
"I beg pardon, Hound? You want me to do what? I already have a fine-"
Ros clears her throat and shakes her head at him.
"You got cotton stuffed in your ears? I said you're buying her mare. Sugar's the name," Sandor grunts, tapping his index finger on the parchment. "She's a fine destrier and you'll treat the animal well, you hear?"
"Yes, Hound."
"You will pay whatever I ask. Before dawn you'll ride for your family's seat like the Stranger himself is on your heels. Understand?"
The young man eagerly agrees. "Yes, of course. Anything you say, Hound."
"And you'll breathe not a word of it to anyone as long as you live, you hear me? If I ever hear it spoken of or that you have mistreated that horse in any way, I'll hunt you down and make you rue the day you were brought into this miserable earth," Sandor snarls mere inches from his face. After staring down the boy, Sandor reaches for Ros.
Dragging the startled woman to her feet, he shoves her toward the closet. "Get on a decent frock. You and I are going to see my wife."
"Here, Hound, here's the bill of sale. Just fill in the amount you want and sign it and it's done."
Grunting, Sandor looks over the document, fills in the amount and signs it. "Hand over the coin, boy."
"You want a gold dragon for that horse?! And you want the currency in silver stags? Why?"
"Never you mind. Ask me any more questions and I'll change my mind about killing you," Sandor grabs him roughly by the shoulders. "The asking price is fair enough. It's easier than you'll get off should the Royces find out you've been whoring on their only girl, wouldn't you say?"
"Yes, I suppose so…I-"
"Give me my coin and get out of my sight!" Sandor growls in his face.
"Here, here it is," the young man offers a full pouch with a trembling hand. Sandor counts the contents, the burned side of his face twitching as he does so.
"Good lad. Now do as I say. Not a word about this, you hear?"
"Yes, Hound," he stammers, gathering his clothes and fairly running from the room.
"Does it give you joy to scare people, Hound?" Ros asks shakily as she ties on her gown. "If you're going to kill me then get on with it. You once came to me out of longing for the woman you couldn't have. Doesn't that mean anything?"
Smirking at her, he shakes his head. "At one time it gave me joy to kill people, wench. Might be that time again. Come now, no more small talk," he grunts, dragging her down the hall to Sansa's room. "Since I caught you red handed servicing Mychel Redfort in the Eyrie, I expect you to get out of this fucking castle tonight."
"But, Hound, it will likely storm! I have nowhere to stay-please! It will mean my death!"
Sniffing, Sandor curls his lip and eyes her warily. "Aye that it might." Rubbing his jaw, he sighs deeply. "Mayhaps you can be of use to me yet."
Puzzled, Ros nods slowly. "Is it-is it Sansa? Does she need a bit of training in the marriage bed?"
"No, gods be damned-nothing like! I'll fucking slit your throat ear to ear if you say that once more!" Sandor shouts, jerking open the door to Sansa's rooms.
Startled, Sansa hurries into the solar while tying on her gown. She senses the Hound's fury in her husband and his anger diffuses through her body at his close proximity. Confusion spreads across her face at the sight of Ros being drug by the arm by Sandor and tossed into the chair in front of her. "Dearest, what has happened? I feel your anger."
"Ros has been trading right here under our noses," he grunts, slamming the door shut. "I went against my better judgment and allowed her to stay because that is what you wanted, wife."
Sighing, Sansa frowns. "Yes, you did." Sitting down, Sansa stares at the woman before her. "Why would you do such a thing?"
"I needed the money, Lady Sansa. I-"
"Bullshit," Sandor interrupts. "I was bringing you more than enough coin when I caught you. Don't you fucking lie to my wife right to my face."
"Ros, you cannot stay after doing such a thing," Sansa says quietly. "Sandor, please show her out."
"Oh, I'm not throwing her out just yet. Give her one of your soiled gowns and cloak from the laundry sack, Sansa. And a fur, too, if one's to be had."
The Houndish gleam in Sandor's eyes unsettles her, and so she swallows her questions and takes out the requested garments. "Here, love. These are not really soiled but I have worn them recently. Will that suit?"
"Good," he grunts with a nod, tossing them at Ros. "They just need your scent on them is all we need for my idea to work." Turning to his confused captive, he growls low, "You will put these on and meet Elder brother in the godswood tonight after we leave the Eyrie. You're going to ride out with him and the Stone Crows in the wagon, you hear me? They will take you to the Inn and you can go one your way from there."
"Alright, Hound, I will," Ros mutters, glancing between the pair. "I'll do whatever you say. You both have been, well, better than most would."
Snorting, Sandor jerks his head toward the door. "Away with you now. I'll be heading out with the others directly so you'd better be there."
Swallowing hard, Ros agrees. "Yes, Hound, I'll be there."
"See that you are or you won't live to see another day, I promise you," he says, slamming the door behind her.
"Come here to me, love," Sandor rasps quietly, discerning Sansa's nervous apprehension. "I won't hurt you, for all my growling. I never could, even before the bond."
"Sandor, dearest, what are you up to?" Sansa asks as he settles her on his lap in the window seat, relieved to feel his anger dissipating rapidly.
"In exchange for their lives, Ros and Mychel Redfort will be helping us tonight."
"But, how? I sense you feel comfortable enough but I still don't understand," she murmurs softly, twisting a lock of his hair around her finger.
"Do you trust me to take you away from here? Do you truly?" He asks, staring into her eyes while lightly brushing his knuckles across her cheek.
"Yes, Sandor, of course I do. Can you not feel it?" Sansa was sure he was reassured before and is surprised to hear him express his uncertainty.
Sighing, he tilts her chin up to him. "I failed you before, lass. I'll not fail again."
"No, Sandor, please, we spoke of this once before. I-"
"Just hear me out, wife. The night of the Blackwater battle I was so pissed that I scared you. I was so drunk in fact that I failed to ask you proper to go with me. Once I saw your fear I couldn't force you to go with me and like a coward I left you in the Red Keep. I've hated myself for it ever since," he pauses. "I'll not fail you tonight. We're leaving this place once and for all. I swear it on our marriage," he rasps low, kissing her hand and fingering the marriage sash at her waist.
"No, you mustn't say such," Sansa whispers, tenderly covering his mouth with her own. "You have not failed me. You were sick and in no condition to take me with you then. And I was not prepared for it then, either. The gods brought us together when we were both ready, and I am grateful. I never want to hear you speak of yourself in such a way ever again," she softly says, staring into his eyes. Placing her hand over his heart, she smiles up at him. "My husband, I know you can feel how deeply I love you. I hold no ill feelings toward our respective pasts. My only regret is that we were apart; but it was necessary, for both of us. Promise me you will let it go."
Drawing in a deep breath, Sandor closes his eyes and focuses solely on the little bird. A deep peace envelopes him; his heart swells as Sansa's love and his own love for her meld into a singular emotion, joining them as one. His beloved wife's devotion embraces him, settling into the recesses of his mind and heart until Sandor feels nothing but her love for him. The experience is so overwhelming, so complete, that the man can hardly tell where he ends and she begins. "I feel it, lass, I do," he rasps quietly. "I'll work on it."
Leaning in close, she nuzzles into his beard and gently kisses him once more. "I feel your love for me and your determination as well. This is the beginning of a new life for us, my husband. After tonight, we will no longer focus on the life we leave behind us." Sansa wraps her arms around his broad shoulders and Sandor pulls her even closer against him.
Later that afternoon Sansa, Lord Royce and the Blackfish distractedly watch as the Stone Crows and Sandor load down the wagon with supplies. Drawing Sansa away from the group, Lord Royce gently takes her by the arm. "These men will be at it for a bit, my dear. Let us take a turn around the stables while they work. What say you?"
Sandor raises his head and stares over at her, frowning. Sansa smiles at him and nods before replying, "Oh, yes, that would be lovely, Lord Royce." Nymeria dutifully rises to her feet and follows them.
Once they move into the stables, Lord Royce stops and turns to face her. "My dear, how well do you know your Great Uncle Brynden? Where you around him much as a child?" Sansa hears Stranger knickering softly at her presence, the sound reminding her to watch her words closely.
"Unfortunately not, Lord Royce. He came to visit a few times when I was little but beyond recognizing his appearance I know him not at all. Why do you ask?" Sansa smiles up at him, though Sandor's apprehension flutters in the pit of her stomach.
Taking a deep breath, Lord Royce frowns and shakes his head. "I have known your great uncle since we were boys, my lady. We have fought together, drank together, and laughed away many an evening together over the years."
"Oh, yes?" Sansa smiles kindly, wishing he would get to the point. "I am glad to hear he has such a friend in you."
"Well, this may sound most strange, my dear, but his behavior here is so very different from the man I have known all these years. I am most disturbed to see him thus changed."
"In what way?"
"In every way, my lady," Bronze Yohn comments darkly.
"How do you mean?" Sansa asks, her voice rising slightly in a panic. Is the red god affecting my uncle as well as my mother? Gods help us all…
"I cannot explain it all to you, Lady Sansa. Brynden's conduct is so altered in so many ways I barely recognize the man. The manner in which he scolded you and your husband for being affectionate, for one; that is not the man I know. His solemn demeanor, the tolerance of the Brotherhood without Banners presence in the Vale, let alone in the Eyrie is unfathomable to me. Most of all, the utter lack of his normal sense of justice when it comes to the murder of Lady Brienne and her squire. Forgive me, Lady Sansa. I know it is your deceased mother's doing, and I know she is quite altered herself. Nevertheless it all is most disturbing to me as well as to many of the other men serving here."
Nodding slowly, Sansa takes his hands in her own. "My dear Lord Royce, I thank you for sharing this with me. I had no idea he was so changed, although I must say his behavior is nothing like how I have always heard him described. What do you think is the cause?"
"Forgive me my dear but I cannot say at present," he sighs, shaking his head once more. "You must understand, I am bound to do what is best for the Vale and yet I am unwilling to prematurely come to a false conclusion."
"Lord Royce, my father always respected you and spoke well of your family. I trust you will do whatever is best. I only ask that you please not hurt my great uncle. I have already lost so much family I do not think I could bear it," Sansa whispers, dabbing her eyes with Sandor's handkerchief.
"Oh no, my dear, I would not hurt him for the world. But the Brotherhood without Banners, however-" he shrugs.
"I trust your judgment, Lord Royce. You will have my support, I assure you, should you see fit to remove them. We must think of what is best for everyone. Lady Stoneheart is another matter. I am not sure how she will receive me or my husband. She is described by everyone as very different from the mother who raised me. I hardly know what to think."
"I understand your apprehension, my dear, more than you may know. I have known Lady Catelyn her entire life. I fear the sorcery that raised her is somehow behind all of this."
"You do?" Sansa asks, startled.
"Yes, well, it will all come out soon enough, I am sure of it. I am most relieved to hear you pledge you support as well, Lady Sansa. Shall we return to the group?"
"Yes, indeed. I must say goodbye to my beloved husband," she smiles shyly at him, wishing she could somehow convey this to Sandor before he leaves with the others.
Sandor is finishing tying the supplies down to the railing when Sansa and Lord Royce return. Closing her eyes, Sansa wills him to hear her, running over the conversation with Lord Royce in her mind as she does so. Glancing up at her, Sandor narrows his eyes and nods briefly at her before continuing his preparations.
To her surprise her great uncle hardly notices them. The Stone Crows mount their horses and say their goodbyes as Sandor saddles Stranger. Nymeria lies at her feet and watches his every move while whining softly, mirroring Sansa's sadness at seeing him leave despite knowing she will be reunited with him in a few hours.
After he hitches the team to the wagon, Sandor helps Elder Brother into the front seat and hands the reins to Rafe before approaching his wife. Yanking Sansa's body flush against his in front of everyone, Sandor wipes his face with a handkerchief and gives it to her. "I heard you, my love," he whispers before kissing her breathless, much to the amusement of the Stone Crows.
With tears falling from her eyes, Sansa blushes deeply and waves goodbye, following behind him as she watches Sandor turn Stranger toward the trail leading out of the Vale.
"Really, Sansa, is such a display necessary?" Brynden rolls his eyes at her. "The sooner your mother handles you, the better. I can only imagine what she will say when Clegane returns."
"Will it be soon, Greatuncle?" She asks, affecting a cheerful tone. "I am so very eager, you know."
"For your mother to arrive or for your husband to return?" He asks, eyeing her warily as he pats her hand.
"Why both of course, greatuncle!" Sansa laughs merrily, struggling to hide her nervousness. "How you do tease me! You must have given Aunt Lysa and my mother quite the time when they were my age, you devil!"
Raising his eyebrow at her, he chuckles low. "That I did, child." After looking her over, he adds, "Your mother and her party should arrive tonight, as a matter of fact. Won't that be nice?"
"I look forward to this evening very much," she smiles, squeezing his arm. "Might I take the evening meal in my room, dearest Greatuncle? I do not wish to appear rude, it is only that I want to go to bed early so that I will be wide awake to properly receive my lady mother later on."
"Of course, child. I'll have it sent up directly."
After taking a leisurely bath so as not cause her maid suspicion, Sansa retires for the evening and takes her meal in her room.
When the maid comes to retrieve her tray, she asks, "Shall I light a fire this evening milady? The night is cold and crisp as anything."
"Yes, that would be lovely, Eliza."
"Is there anything more you require before I retire, milady?"
"No, thank you. Oh, wait, there is one more thing," Sansa laughs. "I will be spending the morning in correspondence. So many things have been happening around here that I have all but forgotten to send out notes of gratitude to all who attended my cousin's funeral."
Smiling, the girl nods. "I'm sure they took no offence, milady. You will find your inkwell, seals and parchment at the ready whenever you have need of them."
"Thank you, Eliza. I also wish to write a few love notes to my husband, as well," Sansa blushes and fidgets with her hands. "As you might imagine, I wish to be left in peace until the noon meal. If I am interrupted, well, I doubt I would find the courage to finish."
Smiling broadly, Eliza nods. "Of course, milady, I wouldn't dream of disturbing you. There is glue and lace in your top drawer if you wish to decorate them." Sighing, the girl clasps her hands together. "Such sweetness is the way with newlyweds! So lucky you are to have such love, milady. I hope to find it one day, too."
"Oh you will, dear, I am certain of it," Sansa smiles, taking her by the arm and leading her to the door. "Just leave my breakfast on the solar table and I will get it myself. Thank you, Eliza."
After maid is gone, Sansa lies down and tries to rest, fitfully tossing and turning, longing for the feel of her husband beside her. Unable to relax, Sansa eventually rises and sits in the window seat, staring out into the night. Her mind wanders to Sandor as she watches the movement of the moon slowly illuminate the path toward the godswood in an eerie translucent blue. Silently she offers prayers to the old gods and the new that she and Sandor will be able to escape the red god, Lady Stoneheart and the Brotherhood safely.
When the moon reaches the highest point in the night sky, Sansa puts on her warmest woolen smallclothes and shift. Stepping into her heaviest emerald colored lambswool gown trimmed in fox fur, she struggles to dress herself properly without help and then sits in the solar, waiting. "Bran," she whispers. "Hear me, brother."
Leaning down, she tenderly strokes Nymeria's luxuriant fur. The animal shakes her head and whines softly before rising to look Sansa in the face. Gasping, she watches in disbelief as the color of the direwolf's eyes transform from their natural yellow into her and Bran's Tully blue. "I hear you, sister. Do not fret, I am here now," she hears her brother's soft voice echo in her heart.
"Bran! You are one with her?" Sansa whispers.
"Yes, sister. Follow me, Sansa. Do not be afraid, I won't let anyone harm you."
"Oh, thank the gods!" Tears pearl in her eyes as she slowly nods and follows the massive animal toward the solar door. Wrapping her fur lined cloak around her shoulders, Sansa quietly sneaks out of the Eyrie with Nymeria loping in front of her. The animal moves silently through the snow as they hurry toward the godswood and Sansa carefully places each footstep into the animal's tracks so as not to leave any discernible prints.
Once under the icy canopy of weirwood trees, Sansa quickly offers prayers to the gods once more and then holds out Sandor's sweaty handkerchief for Nymeria to catch his scent. Immediately the animal darts into the deep underbrush, leading Sansa deeper into the wood towards her beloved. After what feels like hours to the anxious young woman, Nymeria lies down and wags her tail, whining softly. "Where is he, dearest? Is he safe?"
"Sandor is safe. He is making his way up the river wash, sister, to hide the horse's tracks. He will find you shortly," Bran's words whisper to her. Nosing the dirt of the river bottom, Nymeria emits a low whine followed by a short bark. Sansa raises her eyes to see Sandor leading Stranger across the rocky terrain on foot.
Gasping, Sansa runs toward him. "Silence, Sansa!" Bran's words resound in her heart as Nymeria follows alongside her, wagging her tail.
"Little bird, at last!" He rasps low against her neck, gathering her up in his arms and kissing her thoroughly. "Thank the gods you're with me now. I just about went out of my head while we were apart. Is your brother here?" He asks, glancing at Nymeria warily.
"Yes, my love," she whispers, hugging his large bicep close to her chest. On the trail above them, the sound of the wagon's wheels grating along the rocky soil break the stillness of the night air. Raising her eyebrows, Sansa looks up at him questioningly.
"It's Elder Brother and the Stone Crows. Ros is with them as well," he whispers, pulling her up in his arms and squeezing her tightly against his chest once more.
Smiling brilliantly, she clings to him, whispering into the crook of his neck. "We are free! Oh my love, you did it!"
Brushing his thumb slowly over her lower lip, Sandor then caresses her face. Sansa sees a sudden darkness clouding his deep gray eyes. "We're halfway there, lass. We still must be cautious, Little bird."
"Quickly, hide in the underbrush downstream in the riverbed. Go now!" Bran's voice suddenly roars in their ears, shaking them out of their reverie. "Do not move until I come back for the both of you! Swear it!"
"I swear, lad. Don't you worry none, I've got your sister," Sandor growls low, drawing his greatsword and pulling Sansa along beside him into the dense thicket of young evergreen trees.
Snarling, Nymeria disappears up the side of the rockface. As the massive direwolf bounds up the mountainside toward the wagon, the sound of riders approaching reverberates against the granite walls surrounding the trail above them.
"It's Lady Stoneheart, Sandor!" Bran's voice whispers to Sandor on the wind. "Don't let them find Sansa, goodbrother!"
Glancing at Sansa, he recognizes she did not hear Bran's last words. "Come on Little bird, stay close to me now," Sandor mutters low, leading her into a narrow crevasse in the granite rock.