Jon's Offer
Leading her by the hand through the forest, Sandor suddenly stops and turns to face her. "If you expect to get answers then you'd better be ready to answer a few questions, Sansa." Sandor's voice is not unkind but leaves no doubt that he will brook no refusals.
Sansa begins trembling. "Of course, Sandor I suppose that is only fair. What would you like to know?" She has feared his questions, knowing it will inevitably lead to speaking of things she would rather forget. Knowing he killed Lord Baelish himself, she has an idea where Sandor's curiosity lies and it upsets her all the more.
Though visibly distressed, Sansa looks upon him with such trust and tenderness he can barely bring himself to make his inquiry. "Tell me what happened to you, Sansa. I want to know what the fuck that buggering Littlefinger did to you. How is it that you tremble so?" Sandor asks quietly, struggling to keep calm.
Eyes downcast, Sansa slowly takes his hand and kisses him several times. "Of course, I will tell you. However, I believe it would serve us both if this could be discussed later-please Sandor?"
Smiling his crooked grin, Sandor squeezes her hand gently. "Aye, Little bird. Later it is."
The mere mention of Littlefinger has upset the little bird. Having no idea how to comfort a frightened woman, Sandor is at a loss for words, so instead he pulls her close, hoping the feel of his arms around her will give her a sense of security. "It will be better for you to speak of it, Sansa. Elder brother listened to me. I can do the same for you-after I stood by and watched them beat you it is the least I can do."
Sansa fixes her gaze on him, surprised he is still full of shame over that day long ago. "Sandor, the scars on my back from that day have been much easier to bear than the ones I carry inside my heart."
Swallowing hard, Sandor holds her chin in his hands tenderly, hoping his gentle touch will erase the memory of the painful pinches he once gave her. "You need not ever fear anyone ever again. I will keep you safe and I will kill anyone that tries to harm you, believe that." Outraged by the suffering she has endured, Sandor barely manages to keep up a calm exterior. "Your anger will not help her; only your love. The Mother will help you." Sandor hears Elder brother's words whispering in his ear and remind him to stay composed for her sake.
Tenderly kissing each side of his face, Sansa stares deep into his eyes. "I know, Sandor. I trust you with my life-and my secrets," she replies with a sad smile while bringing her face closer to his.
I cannot allow her to see my anger or she will never confide in me. She needs me strong for her sake. Sandor repeats the words in his mind, focusing instead on the feel of his beloved little bird in his arms and the look of trust in her beautiful eyes.
Sansa is warm and so very soft against him, her curves molding into his heavily muscled body. The warmth of her delicate hands on his face and her soft full lips pressing against his skin send heated sparks of desire surging through him, leaving Sandor painfully aching in need. Reluctantly he sets her down and they resume the walk toward the cabin in silence hand in hand, each deep in thought.
Jon is sitting on a bench outside Sansa's cabin with Ghost napping peacefully at his feet when they arrive in White Tree. Sandor notices Sansa does not release his hand as her brother curiously stares at the two of them. "Jon, this is an unexpected pleasure! I hope all is well with you on this fine warm day, brother," she smiles, kissing him lightly, never loosening her hold on Sandor.
Raising his eyebrows, Jon clears his throat and grins. "I am very well Sansa, thank you. I'm happy to see you and Clegane out and enjoying yourselves."
"Indeed. It was most pleasant to pass the afternoon worshipping in the godswood. If I had known you were available I would have asked you to join us."
Crossing his arms, Jon leans against the door frame. "No Sis, I've been in a meeting with Stannis Baratheon. Sansa, please be seated. I have something important to discuss with you."
Sinking down on the bench Sansa nods, her eyes never leaving Jon's. Immediately he regrets ever agreeing to approach her with Lord Celtigar's offer. "Stannis wishes me to convey an offer of marriage from one of his bannermen, Lord Adragon Celtigar. Stannis is willing to return a Stark to Winterfell through this alliance and secure the loyalty of the northmen."
"A marriage proposal?" Sansa asks incredulously. "Gods be good, the man has been here among us less than two moons and already it has begun! I've never even met this Lord Celtigar." Shaking her head she recoils, her easygoing demeanor fading before his very eyes. "Brother, must I remind you that you are in no place to broker any such offer on my behalf?" Sansa begins icily, rising to her feet to face him.
Ever ready to protect her, Sandor steps forward, a menacing scowl fixed on his already intimidating face.
Jon hurries beside Sansa and takes her hand in his. "No, Sansa. Please, calm yourself, sister. I would not force anything upon you, I am merely relaying his wishes. You must believe I only made the offer as a gesture of good will toward Stannis. I conveyed my distaste for this arrangement from the start and made it perfectly clear that this is entirely your decision to make, you and yours alone. By the Seven, they will accept your answer, no matter their opinion of it."
Grunting, Sandor shakes his head contemptuously. "Stannis wouldn't know how to just accept anything, Lord Commander, let alone the word of a highborn girl. The man is like cold iron, he'll break before he bends. You believe he doesn't have his own plan should this one fall through?"
Glancing at Sandor, Jon continues cautiously. "Nevertheless, I will stand my ground. I'll do whatever is necessary to keep you safe Sansa. Your wishes will be honored." Kneeling beside her, he softly says, "I am not so blind, sister, I can see your affections lie elsewhere and have for some time now." His words bring a guarded smile to her lips. "While I admit I have my own reservations about your choice, rest assured I will respect it. I will not trouble you with this any further. In fact I already regret even mentioning it to you to begin with."
"Forgive my response brother. You have many times reassured me you would not force me to do anything and I allowed my fears to overtake me. I know you are in a very difficult position, Jon, but this is all so uncomfortably familiar. Please understand, I do not wish to wed anyone other than the man of my own choosing." Sansa sneaks a quick glance at Sandor who keeps his deep gray eyes averted, wearing the mask of indifference she saw many times in King's Landing.
"If you wish, I will make my intentions known to Stannis myself," Sansa offers genially.
Shrugging, Jon stands and rouses Ghost. "If you want to do so that would be most helpful but if you do not wish it, I will do it myself."
Clearing his throat, Sandor interrupts. "Excuse me, Lord Commander but as Lady Sansa's sworn shield, for the sake of her safety I believe it would be best if you handled it. Stannis is not one to take no for an answer."
Mulling it over, Jon slowly assents. "Yes, I agree, Clegane. Sansa, think no more on it. I will tell Stannis and Lord Adragon tomorrow," Jon says as a large group of Baratheon soldiers and several camp followers walk past them, leering at Sansa and laughing.
Sandor grips his greatsword, his eyes following the men. Pulling her cloak around her shoulders, Sansa leans over and hugs Jon and then glances up at the sky, shivering as the late afternoon light begins fading into blackness. "I am truly sorry for my behavior, brother. Let us retire indoors, shall we?"
"Do not apologize, sister. I will not barter you to anyone, rest assured. Forgive me but I need to return to the castle. We'll get together another day, alright?" Jon grins at her and watches her go inside, then turns to Sandor seriously. "Clegane, it would ease my mind for you to keep Sansa with you with the Baratheon soldiers about. I don't trust that red witch of Stannis' either and Lord Adragon may not wish to stay away from her especially once he hears of her beauty."
Sandor bows his head, "As you wish my lord."
Jon steps closer to him and leans in. "Stay with her day and night, understand? And try to keep her presence around camp to a minimum."
"Of course, Lord Commander Snow. Do you wish to send over another guard as well? I would not have the Little bird dishonored in the village with our arrangement."
Shaking his head, Jon smiles, "There would be no negative judgment among the Free folk should you stay with her without a chaperone. They do not hold to the same moral conventions as the rest of Westeros. As her brother, well, admittedly it goes against my upbringing but Sansa trusts you and that is good enough for me." Unable to resist needling the fearsome man, Jon continues with a grin, "As much time as the two of you spend together, the Free folk already think you two are married in truth, if not in law."
Flustered, Sandor stammers, "My lord, I would not-" before Jon's laughter breaks the tension between the men. "I trust you will not dishonor her; if you were such a character, Sansa would have never trusted you. Should you wish for her hand, however, I expect you will come to me first before you take her to wife." Whistling to Ghost, Jon mounts his horse, laughing as he rides away.
Cursing under his breath, Sandor settles himself on the hearth and watches as Sansa busies herself inside the cabin. "Little bird, your brother wishes me to stay with you until the soldiers leave-day and night."
Smiling, she beckons him inside and places extra furs for him on the bed before readying the evening meal. "I am so very glad! You staying with me will certainly put my mind at ease, especially after Jon's disturbing offer. I cannot believe Stannis would even consider it. Lord Adragon indeed!"
"No one will hurt you or make you do anything, Sansa. You're safe with me. I'll keep saying it and one day you'll feel it."
At Sandor's words she stops her preparations instantly and goes to him, placing her hands on his face as he looks up at her. "And I will continue telling you how deeply I care for you, until you no longer fear telling me the desires of your heart." To Sansa's surprise, tears fill Sandor's eyes. Abruptly he goes outside and vigorously chops firewood long after darkness has settled.
After they sup, shouting and laughter fills the camp, signaling the arrival of yet more camp followers and soldiers. Sandor watches from the window, a grim expression clouding his face as he straps his short sword to his thigh. "Just in case, Little bird," he mutters when he notices her growing alarm.
The couple passes the evening peacefully, sharing stories of their time spent apart. Sansa tells Sandor of the jousting dwarves at Joffrey's wedding, causing him to shout out his harsh rasping laughter at her description. A loud knocking on the door interrupts their merriment. Gesturing for Sansa to cover her hair, he waits until she finishes wrapping a scarf around her head before unsheathing his sword and jerking the door open.
Standing behind him Sansa cringes, watching his demeanor transform into the terrifying Hound she remembers all too well. "What is it? You buggering bastards make it a habit of pounding on stranger's doors in the middle of the night?" Sandor barks, glaring at the men.
"We heard laughter and thought maybe you were having a party ser," one man replies, sneaking a peek at Sansa and grinning.
"Think you might've come upon a woman of ill repute is more like it. Thought if you acted nice you might get a turn, did you?" Curling his lip, Sandor angrily steps forward. "Bugger that. This is my cabin and my woman in it. Get the fuck off my property." Danger radiates from the scarred man as he moves closer still.
"Our apologies ser," the soldier closest to Sandor stammers, clearly afraid, while the rest of the men slowly back off the porch. Several clansmen walk past slowly to watch the exchange, "Is all well Clegane? These men troubling you and your woman?"
"No trouble to me. They're leaving." Sandor answers with a nod towards the soldiers, still holding his sword. "Should they tarry, they'll get more trouble than they bargained for." The clansmen laugh and move only a short distance, waiting to see what will happen next.
"You boys better leave if you know what's best for you," the older man calls, causing the rest of the men to break up once more.
The soldier nearest the cabin door steps into the lamplight. "Clegane-I know you from somewhere, ser. Did you serve in Lord Stannis' army?"
Snorting, Sandor shakes his head and watches the man's eyes go wide with fear. "No…no I recognize you now. You're the Hound. I saw you fight at Blackwater-you cut a man clean in half right before my eyes. You're the only man besides Lord Stannis who was not wearing a helmet that day."
"The Hound is dead, boy. You'd do well to go back to the village and stay clear of me, you hear? You come near my woman again and I'll cut you open, balls to brains." Sandor growls before roughly slamming the door.
Sandor notices Sansa sitting on the hearth, anxiously wringing her hands as he closes the door. Walking over to her, the man pulls her close, whispering in her ear. "Those bastards are nothing to tremble over, Little bird, I've got you."
Shyly she smiles at him and moves to the bed, blushing prettily as she turns down the covers. "The Hound is mostly dead, I would say," she giggles softly, causing him to laugh as well. "I would not have you, um, sleep on the floor on such a cold night Sandor," she whispers, twisting the blanket in her hands.
"Oh yes? Where do you want me to sleep, Little bird?" Sandor asks innocently, his eyes twinkling in amusement, all remnants his anger at the soldiers quickly evaporating at her words.
"Here with me. We can share," she gestures to the bed, her cheeks now blazing at her brazen behavior.
Laughing, Sandor shakes his head, "Aye, I'll sleep next to you. Do you think I'm fool enough to turn down a pretty maiden's invitation?"
Shuffling away from him, Sansa averts her eyes, her cheeks reddening further, the young woman painfully embarrassed by his words. "I would not turn you away," she begins and Sandor bursts out in laughter, unable to let her finish.
"Little bird, I'm not going to ravage you so don't fret. I very much enjoyed your kisses earlier but I would not take you while you are under my protection-by the gods I'm not that much of a dog."
Visibly relaxing, she steadily meets his gaze and smiles before climbing into bed. Watching her settle in, Sandor hesitates before lying down beside her and pulling her close in his arms. "Goodnight dearest," she whispers before softly kissing him on the mouth, the tenderness of the moment deeply moving him. Never has a woman willing shared her bed with him, held him, or called him by such an affectionate endearment. Sandor realizes Sansa has aroused in his heart both needs and desires the man never knew dwelt within him.
After leisurely kissing her for a while, he snuggles her closer to him and revels in the feel of her hands stroking his chest. The rhythmic motion of her caresses quickly soothes him into sleep, his last thought of the night being no dream will ever compare to this wonderful new reality with his beloved little bird.