A/N: Disclaimers
- I don't gain anything by this. The characters & story are the brilliant work of GRRM. And the title of the fic is taken from Loreena McKennitt's, Dante's Prayer which is a huge inspiration for this story ;) and there will be times when her lyrics are used here.
*Onborrowedwings, really, So very grateful to you for everything, chica! Thank you for everything! :D
- The story though mainly book canon, can still apply for the HBO show (I don't anything from the tv show either).
- The story will contain dialogue from both the books and the show.
42. Back in the North
"Sansa, wake up," Sansa heard Sandor rasp from somewhere far away. She buried her face in the pillow in protest, rolling more tightly into her blanket. It was so warm underneath it.
"Bird, it's time. The others are waiting for us," her big man's rough voice insisted, echoing inside her sleepy mind, disturbing her peaceful rest.
Shaking her head, Sansa wondered slightly what others Sandor could mean. Surely it cannot be morning yet. It took her a moment to remember, and when she did, her eyes flew open at once, her desire to fall back into the dream she had been having now forgotten.
"Oh," Sansa said at last, turning over on the narrow bunk bed to find Sandor sitting on its edge beside her. There was a single candle lit to keep night's shadows at bay. "What time is it?"
"Time to go," her big man replied, staring down at her with a raised eyebrow, finding something about her amusing. He reached out to smooth back the auburn tousles that were all around her face before snorting and standing up, growling, "Come, little bird. We can't be long."
Yes, of course, she thought, squinting and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. We cannot afford to lose one moment. She pushed her pillow away reluctantly and threw back the blankets, remembering that three hours after midnight had been the appointed hour at which everyone had agreed it would be the best time for them to flee without attracting the sailors' notice.
The King of the Seas was going to reach White Harbour in two days, but since no one in their company knew the latest outcome to the war, or whether House Manderly was still secretly intending to thwart the Boltons and their allies, the risk of Rickon, Sansa and Shaggydog arriving at the northern port city was too great. Therefore, for a few more days, they needed to conceal the truth of their arrival. Or so we hope. Only the gods know what lies before us.
The galley was currently slowly sailing to the north of The Bite, in the direction of The White Knife, somewhere in between Oldcastle and White Harbour. There is no better place for us to hide before we learn if we stand alone or not. Sansa could only pray they had not come back too late.
Sandor started rolling up their bedrolls the moment Sansa got down from the bunk bed, reaching out for her clothes, no longer feeling so numb or dreamy, but alert, with her heart racing quickly inside her chest. She was going to dress warmly, Sansa had chosen a dress of thick brown wool, a deep green cloak with a large hood, and her boots, which were simple and sturdy, with flat heels and square toes. As soon as I can, I am going to start dressing in mourning, Sansa told herself, slipping the dress over her head, her hands strangely clumsy.
Sansa donned her cloak, leaving its hood down for a moment, and started braiding the long auburn hair that cascaded down her back and across her shoulders. Her eyes fell on her husband, who had his back to her as he buckled on his sword belt. Sandor had told her that he would not be wearing his armour just yet in case their boat upturned and they fell into the water, since all the heavy weight could drown him.
Before she knew what she was doing, Sansa took four steps forward and silently threw her arms around Sandor, embracing him to her from behind as tightly as she could. She pressed her cheek against her big man's back, closing her eyes, a little smile appearing on her face as Sandor grabbed one of her hands in his and gave it a squeeze.
Sansa pressed little kisses just below Sandor's shoulder blades, and took in his powerful male scent as he tilted his neck backwards so that he could rest the back of his head on her forehead once she had stood on tip toes, his large frame casting a shadow over her thanks to the candle's flickering light.
Though Sansa did not wish to appear uncertain, now that she was about to finally set foot in the north again, her feelings of excitement mingled with nervousness were joined by the daunting knowledge that Sandor and she were once again to join the game of thrones was not something she could easily dismiss from her mind.
"Sandor?" she said softly.
"Yes, little bird?"
"I-I…" she could not seem to know how to voice her thoughts.
Sandor turned around and looked down at her with a frown for a heartbeat before his burned features changed as he understood what was worrying her. Her big man cupped her face with both of his calloused hands and leaned down to kiss her. Sansa's hands held on to Sandor's forearms for support, already feeling a little better. She had always loved the way she never had to explain herself with Sandor, for he could always understand her even when she kept silent.
And yet, once they had broken the kiss and were looking at each other, their breaths mingling, Sansa heard herself asking, "This is for the best, isn't it?"
Sandor laughed bitterly at that, regarding her with a hard long look before rasping, while he caressed his thumb over her lower lip, "It's the best option because it's the only one, bird. That's all I know for certain."
Trying to keep her spirits up, not really surprised by his answer, Sansa nodded determinedly, taking a deep breath. Her husband tilted her chin upwards and said in a voice harsh and raw as steel on stone, "I will take care of you, little bird. Out there I'm going to be The Hound to all of them. Half a year away in Essos will not have bloody changed at least that. I'll be damned if they have all stopped fearing that name."
"I know that," Sansa said, running her hands down his chest. She smiled up at Sandor bravely and said softly, "But I also know that you are not the man they think you are."
Sandor snorted. "Then who am I supposed to be?"
"You are the brave man who has protected me for all these months against so many dangers. You are the man I have come to love more than I ever even knew could be possible, big man. And you are the man I will face the world for until they come to accept you."
Sandor pulled her close to him and said, "And that is how I hope it remains, little bird. I promise you that I am going to do everything in my power to make sure we get through this shit alive."
She kissed her love again at that before he stepped back and asked her if she was ready to go. She was. They had packed just a little food already, as well as all their remaining gold, coin and their scarce belongings, which were either packed or attached to their saddlebags. They would be taking those with them even though they were going to have to leave Nan and Stranger behind, in the care of Hagen and Lord Davos.
They had already made their farewells to their horses last night, with Sansa kissing Nan's muzzle and brushing her mare's coat as Sandor broodingly said some words to his war horse as seriously as if the black destrier could understand them. Sansa had smiled as she chanced glances at them both, shaking her head whenever her big man protested loudly about leaving Stranger in Edar's care for so long. Yet she knew that her husband had come to respect and appreciate her Lorathi sworn arrow, or else he would not have entrusted her life or that of his horse to him.
Sandor carried the saddles under his arms after he had opened the door and peered down the corridor outside their cabin. When he had made certain that there was nobody around he snarled in a low, hoarse command, "Keep quiet now, bird. Don't make a sound and pull your hood up."
She nodded and did as he said, taking one last look at the cramped little cabin she had come to be so fond of before following Sandor outside, the sound of their retreating footsteps echoing softly in the galley's eerie silence. Sansa kept her head down and stayed close behind Sandor as they went up to the deck.
The whole crew of The King of the Seas was resting now, but that did not matter. Every little sound that Sandor or her made interrupted the stillness that had descended upon the ship, whether it was the way her big man's long sword rattled as he moved, or the beating of Sansa's heart which sounded to Sansa as loud as if a whole pack of howling wolves had been released.
But it only lasted for a few short moments, for in less than no time Sandor was lifting the bar on the door that opened to the wooden steps that led up to the deck. Sansa felt a cold breeze on her face the moment she stepped into the night's chill, but it felt refreshing, for it smelled pine leaves and wood and cold. It smelled of the north.
Below them was the water, above the sky, and one was as black as the other. To the west, Sansa could see a scattering of stars, which she thought looked to be The Moonmaid. She wondered if it was a good thing that there was a little moon tonight or not, for its light could hinder their wish to stay concealed from any prying eyes. They walked across the main deck to where Rickon, Hagen, Lord Seaworth and the captain were all standing by the rail, waiting for them with The King's cabin boy holding a lantern before him.
Sandor gave a short nod at the men before them while Sansa smiled down at her brother. Rickon had shadows under his eyes, but he seemed wide awake as he watched Shaggydog sail away with a disapproving scowl.
Since it was impossible for Sansa, Sandor, Rickon, Osha and a direwolf to all share a small kiff together, it had been decided that the wildling woman would row to shore one of the two small boats that Captain Beren had been willing to spare them, accompanied by Rickon's wolf.
Sansa admired Osha for her courage at this, for the direwolf could upturn the boat at any moment or worse, but when they had pointed this out to her Osha had shrugged and replied that she was the one who was most fit for this task, and that she would be damned when the day came where she was afraid of getting wet.
"I lived my life beyond the wall. Shaggy throwing me into The Bite won't fret me none, m'lady."
Osha was hard and tough, and uncomplaining and sharp, willing to go wherever she was commanded, always serving faithfully. I should not really be surprised.
Squinting in the dark, Sansa tried to make out the shape of the boat that was carrying Osha and Shaggydog, but by now they had been swallowed by the mist at the far distance they had already put between themselves and the ship.
The rope ladder was dropped over the rail, and the boat that would be used by Sansa, Sandor and Rickon was already waiting for them on the water, tied to the galley by a long thick rope.
"My part in this is done for tonight," Captain Beren the Stout said, after he had returned Sandor's nod. "The King is known in White Harbour. When we reach the docks, smuggling your two friends inside the city will not be hard. Afterwards, I will make it clear to my men that you were never here. Perhaps it won't do much good since I am sure they already suspect who most of you are, but in any case, I hope that Stannis counts this as an act of good will towards him from my part."
"King Stannis never goes back upon his word, Beren," Lord Davos told the captain. "You will be repaid."
Beren was a good sailor and master to his crew, but The Onion Knight had still needed to put his signature upon a contract the captain had commissioned from his first mate that stated plainly how much he expected to be paid for all the trouble they had caused him.
Captain Beren returned his gaze to Sandor and Sansa, regarding them for a moment before bowing his head in their direction and turning around to walk away. The cabin boy followed closely on his heels, taking the lantern with him, casting Sansa and the others in almost utter darkness.
"Do not stay downwind," Sandor rasped once the captain and the boy were out of ear shot. "The wolf needs to catch your scent once you come looking for us."
"We won't," Hagen promised, his bow and quiver full of arrows already attached to his back. "And you don't wander far from the coastline either."
"How long do you think we must wait for you?" Sansa asked.
"A week at the most," Lord Davos answered her. "One of us will find you no matter what if you stay to the outskirts of the city. It will not be prudent for us to play anything but the common sailor and the Lorathi merchant at first, so I must wait until Hagen is granted a private audience with Wylla or Wynafryd, and decides on whether or not he can trust them with our secret."
"And just in case we get lost along the way, Shaggydog will certainly find us one way or another, sooner rather than later," Hagen pointed out cheerfully.
Sansa knew that what Edar said was most likely true, but she nonetheless found herself more concerned about the fates of Hagen and Davos than of her own for a moment, for at least Rickon and she would have Sandor with them. If by chance they encountered someone in the wild, then he would likely end up a dead man.
Lord Davos was risking much in letting them go out of his sight like this; trusting them beyond what they should have had the right to expect. If someone realized that rather than the common sailor he was The Onion Knight, whom everybody believed to be dead, then they would throw him into a cell or make sure they beheaded the right person this time. And if something went wrong with their plan and they never saw him again for some reason, then it could very well mean that he had lost the Manderlys trust, making them no longer wish to stand behind Stannis Baratheon once they revealed to the world where their loyalty truly laid.
Sansa nodded at last. She did not wish to be the one to delay their departure any longer, but she could not help herself then and asked about another concern that had been worrying her. "Are you quite sure you do not want to come with us and enter the city on land rather than by the docks?"
The ghost of a smile appeared on Lord Davos' face as he replied, "Don't worry, my lady. The customs men will not care about Hagen or I. We will pretend to be common seamen, and those sorts of men have never concerned them much."
Sansa knew what he meant, for there were few men who looked as common as Lord Davos. He was of middling height, with his shrewd peasant's face weathered by the wind and the sun, and his grizzled beard and brown hair well salted with grey were not the first Sansa had come to encounter, whether it be in Essos or the Seven Kingdoms.
"Shaggy will miss Stranger," Rickon pointed out suddenly, making Sandor nod in approval.
"Edar," Sandor said, turning his attention to Sansa's sworn arrow. "If anything happens to my horse, I'll gut you. So whip the shit off your hands when you are dealing with him if-"
"If I want to live to see another day," the Lorathi interrupted, chuckling. "Yes Sandor, as I told you yesterday, I promise to take good care of both him and Nan."
Sandor snorted. "You are already starting to talk with a wildling accent, you know. Hopefully the time you spend away from Osha will fix that."
They all laughed at that, and then Lord Seaworth offered Sandor his hand, which Sansa's big man took, as both men said the other's name, parting with a nod.
Sansa lowered her face to hide her smile, wondering once more if, given time, Sandor and Lord Davos could not actually end up becoming friends. It was clear by now that both men respected each other, which Sansa gathered was a good thing since Lord Seaworth would have to defend Sandor before Stannis Baratheon, and Sandor would have to do the same with Davos.
They both need friends, Sansa had gathered over the past month, after listening carefully to what The Onion Knight had told her and the others about Stannis' court, from his high lords and their ladies, to his knights, whether they fought under the Baratheon banner or that of the red woman, Melisandre. I do not believe Davos likes many of the people surrounding his king, and neither do they like him.
"Let's bloody well get on with this," Sansa's big man snarled at last beside her.
She winked at him and gave him a little nod before Sandor went down the ladder with a saddle under his arm. He had to make the trip up and down the ladder twice more due to the remaining saddle and Rickon. If her brother was frightened, Sansa was proud to see the way he put on a brave face as he clung to Sandor when both of them were descending the ladder.
When Rickon and Sandor were both at last inside the boat along with their scarce belongings, Sansa knew the time had come to say her farewells to the men left standing beside her on deck. Gods, please let us meet them again in less than a week, unharmed and as bearers of good tidings.
"Well, I guess this is good-bye then," Hagen said, looking at her with a sad smile, fidgeting with the strap of his quiver.
"Only for a little while," Sansa told him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "Your liege lady will be expecting her sworn arrow to come back to resume his duties, you know."
Edar laughed. "That she will, will she? Well, if all goes well with these Manderlys I expect that's what this sworn arrow will be doing."
Sansa chuckled at that and turned her attention to Lord Davos.
"Thank you," was all she could tell the Onion Knight, grateful for everything that he had done so far for her and Sandor, and what he was still going to do.
Lord Seaworth bowed at her and said, "Be safe, my lady."
"Oh she will be, Davos," Hagen suddenly interrupted, with a grin. "Sandor would never let any harm come to her or Rickon in a thousand years."
Sansa's smile grew even bigger at that, and she found herself asking her friend, "Do you remember the night we met properly for the first time? I mean- not the night when Stranger attacked you."
Hagen ran a hand through his hair, and answered after a moment, "Wasn't it when I asked you and Sandor to consider taking me along with you when you left the caravan?"
"Yes," she answered, nodding. "I told you that night that I did not trust you one bit."
"Oh yes, I remember!" Edar exclaimed, laughing at the memory of that time. "What about it?"
"I trust you now," she replied, and gave Hagen a hug for them before addressing both men with a final, "Good-bye."
With a deep intake of breath, Sansa stepped in front of the rail, looking down uncertainly at the boat beyond that had her husband and her brother. Though the galley was a big ship that was presently moving slowly with its sails furled as it pulled the boat along with it, and the trip down the ladder would not really take that long, for some reason, in that moment, Sansa's heart started beating a little faster.
Be brave, Sansa told herself then. You're home. Be brave, like a lady in a song. She turned her gaze across the waters of The Bite in the direction where she knew the shore of the land in which she had been born was, feeling how her skin turned to steel. What awaited her was the land which she recalled from the summer of her childhood, made of green hills and flowered plains, with great rushing rivers running beside castles or small keeps that rose amidst magnificent blue-grey mountains.
Even if the Boltons and the Ironborn had damaged Winterfell, Sansa knew that if she fought long enough and hard enough, then one day she would have help to remake Winterfell the place she remembered. It can't just all stay in my memories. Rickon and the children I have one day with Sandor must come to know that dream too. They had to live in a north that was whole and new.
With a resolute shake of her head, Sansa returned to reality and without thinking about it again, she eased herself over the edge of the ship, grabbing the ladder in a strong grip as she placed her feet upon it, noticing the way The King's mast loomed large above her. She kept her gaze straight ahead, not daring to look down as she made certain of each step before reaching for the next one. Sometimes she could feel her fingers slipping, but whenever her courage threatened to leave her, Sansa would only tell herself, One more step. Just one more step.
The boat took her by surprise, and Sansa would have stumbled and fallen had Sandor not been already waiting to hold her in an iron grip by the waist, rasping up at her, "Go on, little bird. Let go of the ladder. I got you."
"Thank you," Sansa said, though her heart was pounding as she sat on the boat beside Rickon and stared up from where she had come. Sandor only grunted. I did it. I did it, I didn't fall, and now I am nearly home!
She threw an arm around little Rickon, who quickly scurried closer to her, shivering, and watched as Sandor cut loose the rope that connected their boat to The King, before sitting down before them and sliding the blades into the water, putting his back into the oars, rowing them out toward the distant shore at once.
Rickon was trembling beside her, so Sansa draped her cloak around his shoulders, realizing that she could not stretch her legs at all since Sandor had placed the saddles before her.
"There, is that better?" she asked him, rubbing her brother's arm. "It's all right, Rickon. We are home again. We are in the north! Are you not happy about it?"
Sansa certainly was. Her own heart was thumbing with excitement.
"Yes," Rickon replied sleepily, taking her hand in his own.
She rubbed his palm gently with her thumb back and forth as her brother asked her, "Sansa, are we going to meet Shaggy and Osha now? What if they got hurt?"
"No talk," Sandor said, his lip curling. "Sound carries over water."
"They'll be all right, Rickon. The worst for tonight is past and done now," Sansa whispered in her brother's ear before he nodded bravely and looked across the water to see if he could catch sight of the direwolf and the wildling woman, even as his head began to drop forward and he yawned loudly.
With slow, steady, rhythmic strokes, they threaded their way downstream as the mist rose over the water. The oarlocks had been muffled, so they moved almost soundlessly through the dark river they had all to themselves. Well, to ourselves and Osha and Shaggydog, Sansa reminded herself. There was little doubt in her mind that Osha's, with her wiry-strong arms, would have less trouble with the oars than she would with the fierce direwolf.
Soon the ship fell away, the fog grew thicker, and the faint sound of his oars was lost to all life. The shapes of Lord Davos and Hagen faded in the distance. Sandor, Rickon and Sansa were out on the choppy black waters of The Bite, in a world shrunk to contain only dark water, blowing mist, and their silent breathes.
Sansa huddled in the bow, lost in the folds of her cloak with the hood drawn against the wind, her face pale beneath the cowl, feeling her tummy fluttering as she imagined what would happen once the north knew of their homecoming. From time to time she would meet her husband's eyes and would smile at the sight of him as he hunched over the oars, steering the boat back against the current so it went upstream.
The small boat threw up curls of black water whenever they turned upon that misty night. Sansa's hand was on the gunwale, and the wood was creaking above the cold expanse of water that was The Bite. The rest was rowing, rowing, rowing as they all huddled in silence. She must have dozed off along with Rickon despite her excitement, because the next thing she knew, she suddenly sat up startled, as a wolf howled close by.
"Shaggydog," she whispered, turning around to see if she could catch sight of the wolf. The first hints of dawn were already making their appearance. Sansa could see that they had almost reached the shore at last, and Shaggydog and Osha were already waiting for them there.
Rickon had woken up at the sound of his direwolf as well, and called his name eagerly, making Shaggy shake his wet fur and roll onto his back, just as excited to see his master again as Sansa's brother was to see him. Once Sandor had drawn up the boat on the east bank of The Bite, Shaggydog splashed his way to their boat and Rickon at once, while Osha followed him so she could carry Rickon on her shoulders so that he did not get his clothes wet and catch a cold.
Sandor shipped the oars and got off the boat and pulled it out of the water before helping Sansa to her feet, a grin appearing on his face once he saw the way she was smiling as she regarded the view before her, at an utter loss for words that could express what she was feeling in these moments, feeling dizzy as she told herself that this was really happening.
Her big man then lifted her from the boat so that she would not get her skirts wet, and Sansa clung to him, burying her face in the crook of his neck as she whispered, "Oh Sandor, we did it! We are here. I cannot believe it!"
Chuckling sourly, Sandor finally stopped walking and gave her a quick kiss before letting her slide down to the ground. The moment her feet touched northern land, her knees gave way under her. Sansa fell on all fours with an intake of breath, completely stunned, as she buried her fingers into the soil, staring at the shore and the hills clad with trees before her with tears threatening to blur her vision.
Sansa could hear Rickon a short distance away saying, "Home, Shaggy! We are near home now," as Sandor squatted on the ground beside her, placing his heavy hand on her back as he rasped with concern, "Are you all right, Sansa?"
"I'm back," she said at last, to see if that would wake her. Gods, the air smelt so clean here. I am in the north. Her heart felt as if it was melting just the way she knew ice melted when touched by spring's sunlight. After everything that she had been through, she was now back. The gods heard my prayers. They brought me home!
"Aye, little bird," Sandor growled, laughing as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're back."
At his touch, Sansa turned her face to look at him and smiled with all her heart. Her eyes never left his deep grey ones as she leaned forward to kiss him. Her husband returned the deep kiss fiercely, but just as he was beginning to draw her closer in his arms they were brought back to the present when Osha coughed and said that there would be plenty of time for that later.
"Thought we were supposed to be hurrying?"
"Yes of course," Sansa told Osha even as she cupped Sandor's cheek lovingly as they drew apart after he had muttered that he damned well hoped there was time for them to be alone. "We cannot linger here."
As Sandor went to don on his armour as quickly as he could manage, Osha pulled out the saddles from the boat. Sansa waited with Rickon beside the sea, passing her brother her waterskin once she had taken a sip from it herself as Shaggydog began to sniff the ground around them.
Sansa let her gaze wander off to the woods before them during those moments, highly relieved that snow had not yet fallen here. But it really was no wonder, seeing as how Winterfell was the heart of the north, and White Harbour had always been its mouth. Its firth had remained free of ice even in the depths of winter for centuries. With winter coming on, Sansa thought. That could mean much and more.
When Sandor was done and had loosened his sword in his scabbard, he and Osha each carried a saddle under their arms, as Osha muttered, "Quiet, Shaggydog, Rickon. And make him stay close by."
"Come Shaggy," Rickon called out loud to his direwolf, as they all entered the outskirts of the woods that would produce a measure of safety as they made their way to White Harbour.
All day long they walked and walked, never straying too far away from the coastline and thus never getting lost due to Sandor and Osha's knowledge and skills of how to survive in the wild. Osha carried Rickon at times, since his legs could not take him far enough fast enough. Their tracks and the wolf's pawprints were plain enough to read into the soft ground, but there was no one following them.
The wood grew ever wilder as the pines and sentinels gave way to huge dark oaks. Tangles of hawthorn concealed treacherous gullies and cuts. Stony hills rose and fell and still they walked and walked until Sansa longed for the lost comfort riding Nan would have meant. Yet there was little she could complain about in this day. She was back home, and whenever she remembered that, her face broke into a smile.
They were lucky enough to never encounter anybody. Lord Davos had told them that there would mostly be fisherfolk and rivermen scattered here and there, but whether it was to the war or to winter, the people who had lived in the wild woods between White Harbour and Old Castle had long gone away somewhere else.
"The poxy peasants probably headed towards the nearby towns or cities seeking shelter," Sandor had said after she had asked him what he thought of their lack of encounters with other people. "That is, if they managed to live that long."
It was not until dusk that they finally found a clearing where Sandor said was safe enough for them to settle at for the night. They had only rested briefly long hours ago to get some food in their bellies. Sansa had tried to drink as little as she could throughout the day, and ended up only needing to go make her water some distance away from their party two times. At least I do not have my moon blood on me now, she had thought thankfully, remembering the first days after fleeing King's Landing with Sandor, when she had been forced to rip the hem of her silk gown to use as a cloth between her legs. Whenever their skins went dry, there were always little streams where they could refill them with clear cold water.
Yet whenever Sandor or Rickon had to make water, Sansa would find herself looking away, and would be grateful to Osha when the wildling woman kept on walking as if nothing had happened, making Sansa quickly follow her. The others would join them soon enough though, but Sandor would always roll his eyes at her and mess up with her hair when she caught his eye afterwards.
Wisps of pale mist threaded between the trees as Sandor finally managed to make a fire in the center of the clearing to warm them all for tonight. He put his flint and tinder back inside the saddlebag with a grunt as he squatted before the flames, turning his neck around to see what his little bird was doing.
Sansa was breaking her loaf of bread with her brother as the boy ate an apple, his back propped up against the belly of his direwolf. Osha had already laid down on her bedroll, and was trying to get some rest after the long day they'd all had.
Sandor looked around the clearing, from the spot on the ground where he had placed his armour to the dark sky above, noticing that there were no stars tonight. It's as good a place for us to rest as any other, he had gathered, once it was clear that the bird and her brother could not keep on going any longer today.
The woods were oddly silent tonight. Sentinels and soldier pines grew thick about here, and there was nothing as dark and gloomy as an evergreen forest. The ground was uneven, scattered with fallen needles here and there.
He stood up and went to sit before the big great oak where he had decided to take the first watch, thinking that if they managed to keep today's pace tomorrow, they would probably reach the outskirts of White Harbour in three to four days.
The night was quickly getting fucking cold by now. Sandor rested his head against the oak trunk behind him with a sigh, glad that his leathers and cloak kept the some of the cold at bay. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking that he should better hunt some game for them all for tomorrow or the scanty provisions they'd brought with them would run out by tomorrow night. Osha will probably want to hunt as well, knowing the woman.
The sudden sound of Sansa's clear voice as she sang Rickon to sleep made Sandor's eyes fly open. He could not make out the words, but it was reassuring to hear his little bird's sweet soft voice. It's been too long enough since I last heard her sing.
Sansa was kneeling on the ground beside Rickon, who was lying on the bedroll, hugging Shaggydog as the direwolf stared up at the bird with those green eyes of his that reminded Sandor so much of the pycromancer's piss. If there's a wild animal around, Shaggydog will see to it, Sandor gathered, glad for one less worry he had to remember.
After a moment the little bird kissed her brother on the forehead and stood up gracefully, smoothing her skirts in the process. She turned around at once in his direction, hugging herself as she walked over to him with a smile on her face.
"You're shivering," he rasped, when Sansa was standing beside him. "Go get your fur-trimmed coat, little bird."
"No, it's all right," she chirped. "Really, there's no need for it. I don't want to get it ruined."
Sandor shook his head. He knew Sansa did not want to wear it right now because it was going to get dirty, which was just bloody stupid. "I'll get you as many fur coats as you will want in a lifetime as soon as this war is over, Sansa. Just go put on the one I gave you in Norvos. It'll keep you warm tonight."
She looked like she was about to argue back, but after a moment of regarding him with an unsure expression she finally gave him a little smile and a nod and turned around to go for his nameday gift to her. He watched her take it out of her saddlebag and don it on before she returned to where he was sitting, looking dishevelled and too fucking beautiful in the light of the shifting flames their fire cast.
Sansa surprised him when she sat on the ground beside him, for he had been expecting her to go back to the bedroll where Rickon was sleeping to try and get some rest, for it was clear to him how tired she was, despite her not saying a word of complait all day long. The little bird chuckled when she saw his expression and told him, "If I am ruining my coat then I am staying here with you."
Sansa was supposed to share a bedroll with Rickon, while Osha used the other one until it was time for her to take over tonight's watch.
"Little bird, you should get some rest," he began to snarl, before Sansa arched her eyebrow at him, asking, "What? Do you not want me to stay here and keep you company?"
Sandor snorted, giving in, amazed at how much the little bird had changed from the girl he first met, who would have had more than one word to say in protest at the thought of ruining her silk dress.
As he pulled his little bird in his arms, pressing her close to his chest, clutching her tightly he snarled, "If I don't want you to stay? No, bugger that, little bird. I don't want that. I want you to stay here."
Sansa smiled, kissing his neck and his burned cheek as she said softly, "That is good, because I want to stay here with you too."
With a grunt at those words, Sandor claimed his wife's mouth, kissing her slow and deep, the warmth of her body making him aware of the increasing tightness of his breeches. But he knew that tonight, here in the wild with Rickon and the wildling, was not the fucking place or the time for taking his bird.
So they broke the kiss reluctantly, shifting around on the ground so that Sansa could rest her back against his chest in a position where his mail did not hurt her, wrapping his arms around her as she sighed contentedly.
They sat in silence for some moments, both lost in their own thoughts until Sandor remarked sourly, "I can just imagine how sodding cold it will be when it starts to snow."
Laughing, Sansa said, "Well, if I recall correctly you did say that you did not mind freezing in northern snows when you were proposing to me, remember?"
Throwing his head back at that, Sandor laughed, and the sound was like dogs snarling at each other in a pit. He brought his lips down to the back of Sansa's neck, nibbling at her earlobe after saying, "Seven hells, but I did say that!"
"You also agreed," she continued, in a more serious tone, "to us marrying before a heartree as soon as we found one, you know."
Sandor had not forgotten. "Aye, I know. And that's what we will be doing when we find one."
"Thank you," his bird chirped, snuggling closer to him.
"Do you know what else I would like us to do?" Sandor told her, tickling her gently.
Sansa tried to stop her giggles as he went on kissing and touching her body and skin, the sound of her laughter as sweet to Sandor's ears as the song she had sung to her brother had been, as he whispered in her ear all the things he would like to do to her right now, making the bird hiss in a whisper, as she went on chuckling, "Oh Sandor, stop it!"
"You really are happy, aren't you?" he remarked moments later, nosing Sansa's auburn hair out of the way when his amused laughter had subsided into half a growl. "To be back in the North, I mean."
Sandor had been expecting the little bird to react differently the moment they set foot on the east bank of The Bite, but had realized that deep down he'd known Sansa would be overwhelmed with joy at being back home after so long, regardless of the fact that she would not have wanted her homecoming to be so clad in secrecy due to the great risk and peril they were chancing to fate.
For his part, he was just relieved that they the first stage of their journey had passed without any troubles. If the gods were good, Hagen and the Onion will find them soon enough. And then we will know where the sodding Manderlys really stand in the game.
"Oh yes of course, darling," Sansa told him now, bringing her hand behind her head to reach for him so she could slide her fingers through his hair and gently caress his face with her knuckles and fingertips. "It is just so hard to believe that we are here at times. I- I mean- I know that the worst is still before us, but I cannot help being happy at being back."
Sandor's gaze fell on the fire for a moment, before moving to the shadows it cast upon the sleeping forms of Rickon, Osha and the direwolf. Before he knew it, he heard himself asking Sansa, "What song were you singing to Rickon?"
"The Mother's Hymn," she sighed, turning around to look him in the face, making him still under her gaze at those words.
Fuck. That song. No wonder he had thought it sounded familiar at a distance. He had been drunk as a dog back then, at his lowest point, and yet he knew that he would carry the memory of Sansa singing that hymn to him the night the Blackwater burned with green fire till his dying day. What that song meant to them both was clear to both of them as they stared into each other's eyes.
"But doesn't your brother believe in your bloody white and red trees?" he asked at last, pressing his brow against Sansa's. As far as Sandor knew, he had never heard Rickon mention one word of The Seven.
Sansa nodded. "Yes, he does, but I remembered that song for some reason. He did not seem to mind it though."
Sandor placed his chin on the top of the little bird's head, rocking her back and forth, his arms wrapped loosely around Sansa's waist. And then he rasped, "Sing me that song, little bird?"
"All right," Sansa said at once, as if she had been expecting him to ask her beforehand.
She kept her voice soft and low so as not to wake the others, with her head resting on his shoulder, as she sang, "Gentle Mother, font of mercy, save our sons from war, we pray. Stay the swords and stay the arrows, let them know a better day. Gentle Mother, strength of women, help our daughters through this fray. Soothe the wrath and tame the fury, teach us all a kinder way."
The little bird fell asleep in his arms that night. Long hours later, when it was time for Osha to take Sandor's place and keep watch for the rest of the night, Sandor carried Sansa to the bedroll under Shaggydog's gaze, and placed her upon it as gently as he could, so as not to disturb her rest, or that of her brother's. Then Sandor lay down on the empty bedroll beside her and looked up at the patch of dark sky the clearing revealed. To his bloody surprise he was asleep within minutes.
The following morning, Sandor woke up with his little bird nestled against him, one arm draped lightly over his chest, her breasts brushing his back. He laid there on the ground listening to the sound of the waking forest and to the soft steady flow of Sansa's breathing.
When she woke up later, Sansa smiled sleepily up at Sandor when she realized that he had been staring at her already, taking in once again every detail of her beautiful features with admiration.
"Why do you look so happy now?" he wanted to know.
"For many reasons, really," she replied, with dimples appearing on both of her cheeks. "Because it is a new day, and the sky is blue. Because I love falling asleep in your arms and waking up still wrapped in them in the mornings. I always have, even back on the days when I knew it was very improper of me to be sleeping in a bed with as a grown man."
Sandor kissed her, his scarred lips nibbling at hers before her mouth opened to let his tongue slip inside, while he remembered with amusement the moments they had spent in The Inn of the Stormed King just before they left Westeros for Pentos when Sansa had asked him to please never tell her mother or her kingly brother or the world about their sleeping arrangements.
"I fucking like waking up like this too, little bird," Sandor admitted once they had broken the kiss. "I always have as well."
They rested in silence upon their bedrolls for a couple of moments afterwards, until Sansa suddenly exclaimed enthusiastically, "Oh Sandor, look at the way the clouds are massing in the sky!"
"What?" he asked, at a loss.
"Yes, look! It's so beautiful the way they are pierced by shafts of sunlight. It is just as if they where two huge castles afloat in the morning sky!"
Sandor tilted his neck upwards so he could stare at what the little bird was seeing. It did not take him long to understand what his little wife was talking about. He could sort of make up the walls of the tumbled stone Sansa was refereeing to, as well as the mighty keeps and barbicans, but he pretended that he couldn't.
"Yes, don't you see?" the little bird insisted when he had said she was imagining things, pointing at the clouds above them, visible trough the clearing. "It looks as if wispy banners were swirling from atop the towers, reaching for the few fast fading stars that decorated the sky last night."
"Seven hells, you've lost your mind, little bird," Sandor observed with a laugh, but his bird paid him no heed and continued to chirp away.
Sansa and Sandor watched the blood red sun coming up behind the clouds that morning, making them go from black to many grey to rose and gold and crimson. Soon the wind mushed them together, and there was only one castle where there had been two.
"Now they look like a tumbling tower, or likes some of the ruins we encountered during our trip to the Hills of Norvos," he pointed out, as the wind brushed Sansa's soft hair against his brow.
"Hush," Sansa told him, placing a quick kiss upon his mouth. "They don't. I do not want to hear or think about falling towers and ruined castles, Sandor."
"Aye, he rasped, understanding the reasons why she had spoken those words. "I reckon I wouldn't either, little bird."
A/N: Thank you SO much for reading the chapter! Will keep my fingers crossed that you liked this chapter Hope you're all doing great!