A Wounded Little Bird Meets A Tamed Hound
Podrick all but ran to Sansa upon his arrival in White Tree, so eager he was to tell her about Sandor the young man did not even hesitate to interrupt her prayers. Smiling to herself while she folded the white cloak, Sansa carefully placed it into another bag out of view as he spoke of Sandor's request and how Jon allowed him into Castle Black once he saw what the man brought with him. Sansa asked no questions; in fact she said not a word as Pod lifted her into the saddle for the trip to Castle Black. Lost in her thoughts, Sansa solemnly awaited her reunion with the fearsome Hound, not quite sure what to expect from him.
Seated in the weirwood chairs in Jon's office, the two wait anxiously for the Lord Commander. "Now my lady, you promised to act surprised," he chides, bashfully daring to look at her. Having spent many months at the Wall living only with men, Podrick finds he is especially shy in the woman's presence now. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she gives the young man the first smile he can remember from her since hearing of Sandor's death.
"I will, I promise Pod. I'm very glad I had a chance to learn this news privately first, from a friend." Blushing deeply, he shyly smiles at her, knowing that even after their travels they are truly only acquaintances; still he likes hearing her call him a friend just the same. Footsteps near the door signal Podrick to rise as Jon enters the room.
"Sansa, I have some unexpected news: Sandor Clegane has returned to the wall." Gasping, she raises her hand to her throat though a small smile instantly betrays her and Jon glares at Podrick in response. "You told her, didn't you?" he grumbles, his eyes twinkling. "My Lord, I can explain-" Podrick begins while Sansa grabs both of Jon's hands, smiling. "Oh Jon, do not scold him; I am very glad he did. This is just the kind of news one needs to hear from such a kind man as Podrick Payne." Her words send a flush down Podrick's cheeks, earning him a glare from the Lord Commander.
Studying his normally reserved sister, Jon's curiosity is aroused. Sansa's visibly improved demeanor has not escaped his notice; he expected her to be pleased but Jon senses another emotion he does not dare name that surprises him. "He claims he is no longer the Hound and means to swear fealty to the Starks. Clegane has brought the bodies of Theon and Asha Greyjoy as well as Walder Frey to demonstrate his loyalty. Stannis Baratheon was on his heels and he had to make a hasty escape from Winterfell."
"He killed both Theon and Walder Frey?" Visibly stunned, Sansa sinks back into her chair. "This is most unexpected." Pausing, she watches Jon for his reaction to this information. "And to think Stannis Baratheon is in Winterfell? Father would never believe it. Stannis is a very stubborn man, he would never allow Sandor to go unpunished for his part in the Blackwater Battle." Viewing her obvious apprehension with curiosity, he studies her closely as Sansa slowly walks over to the window.
"Do you think he came all this way to collect Sandor?" Laughing, Jon shakes his head. "That would surprise me greatly. I would imagine a man like Stannis has other ideas. What is even more surprising is the Hound wishing to swear fealty." Jon remarks while observing her from the corner of his eye. "Oh, indeed that is a surprise. To whom does he wish to swear it?" Smiling, Jon puts his arm around her. "He wishes to swear fealty to me as the last surviving male of House Stark-he does not know Bran and Rickon live. Clegane says when he held Arya captive he wanted to do so before Robb and…" his voice trails off and Sansa's eyes fill with tears.
"I told him however I cannot accept him." Jon watches Sansa's face fall, casting her eyes downward as he speaks. "Perhaps you may wish to take him into your service. What do you think, sister? Do you want the Hound to bend the knee to you?" She senses the jest in Jon's tone, knowing as he does that as a little girl Sansa would have loved nothing more to have her very own sword shield, a fearsome warrior who would lay his sword at her feet. But she is not that summer child any longer, neither can she ever go back to that age of innocence.
Wrinkling her brow, Sansa is silently conflicted: it is not his ability she questions, for he protected her well enough in King's Landing. Sandor Clegane will discover soon enough she is a far different person now. After all she has endured Sansa is most unwilling to subject herself to his drunken behavior and insults and much needs to be said between them to convince her to accept him into her service. "If he wishes to serve as my sworn shield I will consider it-though I would not have him bend the knee; he has always hated knights. Might I speak with him first before agreeing, brother? There is much that needs to be addressed before I would consider taking him on permanently, if it pleases you."
"Sansa, I well remember his behavior in Winterfell. Of course you may take as much time as you wish." He has no idea what Sandor is capable of doing; if he did he would never suggest such, Sansa thinks, involuntarily shivering as she relives the feel of his blade at her throat, the smell of wine burning her nostrils as he pressed her close to him. "However, I must tell you Clegane claims he is a changed man and has been living on the Quiet Isle with the brothers of the Seven for the past several years."
Sandor Clegane living in a sept? "Yes, well, let us hope it is true for both our sakes. Sandor has never been one to lie. It is rather hard to feel safe here when you are so busy and…" her words fade, a faraway look clouding her features. Plagued by flashbacks day as well as night, Sansa knows Jon wishes her to accept Sandor in hopes having a sworn shield will end her misery.
The gesture endears her brother to her all the more but Sansa does not believe Sandor will solve the problem. Still, there is much Sansa believes may be gained from having him near once again. Blinking back her tears, she forces a smile onto her lips. "Yes, I would more at ease with Sandor beside me, brother. However, please permit me to speak to him first before we settle on it. Thank you so much for your kindness."
"It is nothing, Sansa. I am glad to do anything that will give you more peace of mind. There is more, prepare yourself: Clegane also killed Lord Baelish and brought back his mockingbird sigil as proof," he says, offering her the pin. Recoiling, Sansa shakes her head, "I am most grateful to him brother but I do not wish to have it near me…you may keep it, please." Nodding, Jon puts it inside his drawer. "I will not have it anywhere near you ever again. You know the man better than anyone here-why do you suppose he would do all of this for us?"
Shrugging, she bitterly asks, "What does it matter, dear brother? At last he has given us a have a measure of justice for our family." Jon squeezes her close. "Clegane has finally given it to the miller whose children Theon claimed was Bran and Rickon; let us not lose sight of that. I only wish I could have stopped Theon myself. Do you want to see the ... Greyjoys?"
Once she would have shied away from the brutal confirmation of Sandor's actions. The day he rescued her she could hardly stand to look at him after he killed her attackers and it has shamed her ever since. "The little bird still can't bear to look at me, can she? You were glad enough to see my face when the mob had you, though," his rasping voice replays in her ears. It has been a source of sorrow that she never told him how grateful she is to him for saving her then and many other times besides.
Since then Sansa has learned life indeed is not a song and through her trials she has grown into a far different woman than the girl he rescued during the riots. "Yes Jon, I would look upon the bodies of those murderous traitors one last time." Taking his hand, she turns to him. "Please no more talk about yourself in such a way; only the gods know if things could have turned out differently or if you and I would both have ended up dead. You did what you had to do-we both did and we survived." Jon and Sansa have grown closer since she has returned and as adults have reached an understanding that was sorely lacking in childhood.
"Come, I will bring you to Clegane." Slowly rising from her chair, Sansa takes Jon's arm, struggling to control her trembling; it has been several years since she has seen him and yet memories of his behavior once again send anxiety churning through her blood. "Yes, let us go."
"What do you think Stannis wants, Jon?" she asks, nervously wringing her hands, a familiar panic rising in her throat as she remembers the sounds of the fighting the night of the Blackwater battle. "He wishes to speak to me about some matters tomorrow. I will know more of his objectives then," Jon says. "Will he try to take the lands north of the Wall?" Shaking his head definitively, Jon replies, "No, Sansa there is nothing to fear. Neither he nor his troops are even remotely prepared for this place; besides that is not his intention. I am not at liberty to say more at present."
Opening the door, he discreetly watches as Sansa quickly approaches Sandor, propriety stopping her a few feet away from him, her eyes filling with tears. Rising, Sandor's face twitches into a half grin as he looks her over, uncomfortably shifting on his feet, visibly nervous. "Little bird," he finally rasps low, carefully reaching out his hand to steady her. At the sound of his pet name for her she tentatively takes his large hand into her own, giving him a shy smile.
He is very much the same as she remembers: still heavily muscled as a bull, he is now clad in leather pants and studded jerkin. Sansa sees that even without armor he is still by far one the largest men she has ever seen. His long black hair dips below his shoulders, obscuring the scarred side of his face. Daring to glance into his eyes, Sansa notes the greatest change of all. Once they were perpetually bloodshot and brimming with rage and bitterness but now his deep gray eyes are solemn and peaceful, reminding her of the pool in the godswood at Winterfell. His expression softens as he returns her gaze and it is altogether such a remarkable change Sansa finds herself momentarily speechless as she regards him.
The memory of his gentle little bird saved him as he fought his way back to health on the Quiet Isle and he finds himself quite overwhelmed to be in her presence. Sandor has hungered for the sight of her and takes the opportunity to carefully take in every feature as she stands before him, wearing a small smile, her cheeks blushing prettily as he looks her over.
Intently, Sandor watches as she offers a trembling hand to him which he carefully takes into his own. Beholding the beautiful woman she has become, Sandor is stunned by her delicate grace. Her face is more angular and her porcelain skin is still as pale as the snow of the north. Her fiery red hair is a shade darker than he remembers and now hangs loose to her tiny waist. She is taller and her body has matured into the soft curves of womanhood since he last saw her. It is in Sansa's eyes Sandor witnesses the greatest change; though still beautiful and Tully blue, now they bear the same haunted expression as the little she wolf. Sandor is troubled to see her thus altered, knowing it is a result of her life experiences since he left her in King's Landing.
Observing the reunion curiously, Jon notes Sansa's guarded demeanor vanishes and finally she looks at ease in the gentle grip of the fearsome warrior. Her smile reaches up to her eyes and her warm expression is mirrored by the scarred man softly looking down at her. At the sound of the door closing the couple looks around, surprised to find they are alone. Sandor leans on the weirwood desk, bringing his face level with hers. The couple spends several long minutes savoring the sight of the other in silence.
"Sandor," she whispers, breaking the stillness by tentatively raising her hand to his burned cheek. "You've come back just as I prayed you would." Her touch painfully reminds him of the night of the Blackwater. "I said I'd have Florian and Jonquil from you," he rasps, and she laughs in spite of her emotion. "I had no idea you would come back from the grave for it." Sorrowful memories cast a dark shadow over the pair both tentatively observing the other. "I see you flew away from your lord the Imp, just as I had heard."
"He was never my husband in truth and our marriage was dissolved quickly enough when the septon in the Vale learned of it," Sansa quietly replies, staring at the floor shyly. "I am very glad of that little bird, for your sake." Raising her eyes to his, Sansa meets his gaze for the first time since entering the room, her penetrating blue eyes taking his breath away.
You must ask for forgiveness if you want to start anew, Elder brother's works echo in his ears. Falteringly, the man begins the apology he has practiced the entire trip north. "Little bird, I should not have acted the way I did when last I saw you. I have deeply regretted my actions and to that end I've worked hard to change." Pausing, he swallows hard, a familiar self-loathing searing through his conscience as he remembers his drunken behavior toward her. Remember what Elder brother taught you. Asking for her forgiveness is the first step to a new beginning.
Gazing into his eyes Sansa sees they are clear and calm, no longer full of anger and bloodshot from drink and as he speaks she feels inexplicable drawn to him. Emboldened by her observation, she shyly breaks the silence stretching between them. "Sandor, I prayed for you that night though I knew you didn't keep any gods." Sansa whispers, wringing her hands nervously. The man can see how uneasy she is; watching her avert her eyes, she bears a similar expression he often saw during her captivity. After the way I treated her in the past no doubt she is afraid I will mock her or bark some insult; the poor little bird escaped the lions but not without scars.
In light of all that transpired between them that night, Sansa's declaration startles him. She prayed for me? Before I came to her room? Sandor cannot recall anyone ever praying for him before. Hearing the prayers of those whose lives he was about to take is more what he was accustomed to hearing. Her words deeply affect him and he can only stare down at her hand, so delicate in relation to his own. "Did you now? What did you ask them for?" he asks, gently drawing her closer to him, willing her to see she has nothing to fear from him now.
"Yes, I prayed to the Mother she would keep you from harm and that she gentle the rage inside you." Sansa answers softly, shyly moving closer to him. Shame fills his heart, not for the first time since that night. "Did…did you find peace Sandor? I feared you found it only it the afterlife." Shaking his head, he looks down at their entwined fingers. "Aye, I found a measure of peace lass, though not the measure I wished for-that is why I am here." Struggling for words, he dares to meet her eyes once more and expectantly she returns his gaze, eagerly waiting for him to continue, intrigued by his words and the changes both in speech and actions. "Sansa," he mutters low, turning his eyes away from her. "About that night, the way I acted, I-"
Squeezing his hand, she softly interrupts him, her voice barely above a whisper,"Please, Sandor we both have lived with our mistakes. I regret not going with you even though I was very afraid. I should have stopped being such a foolish little bird for once and recognized you too were afraid and yet still you offered to take me with you." He has many times regretted making her feel foolish, how freely he made heartless remarks to her, she who is the only woman who ever treated him with kindness. "You were not the foolish one girl, believe that."
Smiling hopefully, she continues, "We are both very different people now. We have enough regrets in the past and the gods have seen fit to give us a new beginning here and now. Let us start over...what say you?" Looking down at her, he can hardly believe her words. Sansa is so very beautiful, her soft skin warm against his calloused hand and she is looking into his eyes with such openness that he pushes aside his reservations and dares to hope this indeed may be the beginning for which he has prayed. "Do you mean it little bird? There is much that needs to be said, Sansa - think on it a moment, now." Nodding, she smiles tremulously at him. "Yes, I know. But let us not rehash our mistakes. I would like us to start over from this day, if it pleases you."
"Aye Little Bird," he answers, taking her hands and patting them softly. "We can start over, beginning now." Shyly she moves away from him, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "You are to be my sworn shield?" Grinning at her wickedly, Sandor barks out a harsh laugh. "Would you like that, little bird? I'll keep you safe, though I'm not the pretty sort of knight you'd wish for, I'll wager." Moving closer to her, he asks, "Do you remember your last words to me, Sansa?"
Blushing, she slowly closes the distance between them. "You won't hurt me." He solemnly nods, "I never will little bird, I swear it. You have my word." Gentle knocking on the door disturbs their reverie and Jon peeks around the door. "Clegane, I have taken the liberty of having one of the cabins nearest your new charge readied for your arrival."
"Thank you my lord," Sandor replies with a bow. "Sansa, I will entrust you with the responsibility of teaching your new guardian the ways of the Free folk. Show him to the log home with the evergreen in front, would you?" Drawing in a deep breath, she timidly loops her arm through Sandor's, taking him by surprise with her boldness. "It would be my pleasure, brother. Come Sandor, I will take you to your new home. I live in White Tree; I hope you will like it there as much as I do."
Once they are out of Castle Black, Sansa turns to him once more. "You are the only man I would entrust with my safety, Sandor. You have always hated knights so very much and I myself have lost all use for them, save for Lady Brienne. I would not have you bend the knee if you do not wish it. You have already done so much for my family."
Raising his eyebrow, he solemnly looks down at her. "I told you I'll keep you safe and by gods no one would hurt you again or I'll kill them. I mean to keep my word Little bird, I owe you that." Folding her hands, Sansa looks into his eyes. "Then I will accept you as my sworn shield on a trial basis Sandor Clegane. I would never ask you to bend the knee, however. I would like us to try to be friends." Sansa shyly replies, blushing prettily her voice sincere and full of hope that at once touches his heart. "Aye, we'll do that," he replies, shaking his head and grinning at her. Walking along beside her with a light snow falling around them, Sandor is happy for once in his life, satisfied just to be near her once again.