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, thank you for being such a wonderful beta, helping me out with this fic since the start. It means a lot and I can never thank you enough for your help! :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.

43. The Godswood

Their small company pressed on and on towards White Harbour, even as the nights grew colder and colder with every passing day. Bloody hells, I never thought how true my words would turn out to be, Sandor thought, pissing against a tree on the third day since their arrival in Westeros, remembering how he had told Sansa that he wanted to come to the North to freeze his arse off in the snow as he asked her to marry him. Or how soon either.

"Bugger the warm," Sandor muttered, hoping that their party would not have to stay in these woods for too long. He knew that winter already had the north in its grip, and it was only due to White Harbour's location that the city had been spared from the changing of the seasons. But it was not going to fucking remain like that for long now.

He was not about to start complaining about it, when no one save Rickon said a word about it. Osha was as tough as Sandor had ever heard wildlings were, and the little bird never said anything, and when he asked her how she was doing, she would only chirp that her limbs were a little sore, but not much else. Here in the wilderness, Sansa was turning into the northern she-wolf that he'd known she was deep down, every passing day, gaining an inner strength that was just as dangerous as sharp steel or strong arms.

Sandor laced his breeches when he was done and strode quickly in the direction where Sansa, Rickon, Shaggydog and Osha had walked on ahead, smirking at the little bird in amusement as she avoided his eyes like she was wont to do whenever he went to take a piss. Still the perfect bloody little lady even after all this time.

The days passed by as they kept on walking north in the wild woods, avoiding the few paths or roads they found from time to time in an attempt to avoid encountering anyone, whether they were fisherfolk or soldiers or starving families. They rested by night, and stayed close to the coastline by day, knowing that there was little chance for either Osha or Sandor to lose themselves in the forest.

Once, when the wildling woman said that the way north was easy if they just looked for the Ice Dragon and chased the blue star in the rider's eye, the little bird and Sandor had ended up asking Osha as much as she was willing to tell them about life beyond the wall, and though some of her tales made Sansa stare in disbelief, Sandor would just snort at all the things the woman talked about, whether they were about giants or children of the forest, or the Others, the white walkers. Next she'll be telling us about grumpkins and snarks.

The wildling woman would also ask Rickon sometimes if he remembered the way she had taught him to find his way by the position of the stars or the moss growing on tree trunks. Sansa had been surprised to see that Osha had already taught Rickon how to hunt small animals like rabbits, birds or squirrels, moving quiet as a cat, but Sandor knew that the boy had probably seen and done more shocking things back in Skagos.

Still, the sight of the boy trying to skin his pray with a dagger as he pushed his wolf away, saying, "No, Shaggy! You can't have this one too. You already ate yours," always amused him.

Whenever they had to stop during the day to drink or to rest or piss or eat, it always had to be brief. They ate apples or berries, and re-filled their waterskins from any stream or pond they saw, and when they managed to have a decent fire going, they always dined on some roasted animal, and were lucky enough to even get a rabbit stew thanks to Osha. They always had to hunt for two animals; one for Sandor and Sansa and one for Osha and Rickon. Shaggydog did his own hunting, and would always return to them with his muzzle spotted with fresh blood. The bird would look away when this happened, and resumed eating her dinner with as much decency as she could muster, trying to avoid getting grease on her face or her dress, as she huddled closer to Sandor.

Three days after they had landed on the eastern shore of The Bite, they came upon a deserted one room crofter's cabin in the middle of a small grove of trees beside the sea. It was there that Sandor and Osha finally agreed they had found a place to stop and settle for the remaining time they had to wait until Hagen and The Onion found them.

They were on the very outskirts of White Harbour by now, and if they went any further, then they could be risked getting caught by the men the city guard sent to patrol the surrounding lands, fields and woods outside the their walls.

Sandor was glad for the refuge, for it provided some sort of shelter from the rain and the cold, even if the only furniture inside the house was an upturned table, and the stable behind the cabin had a broken roof and old dry hair inside its two stalls rather than a horse. At least we can wash up in the sea, Sandor concluded, dropping the saddlebags in a corner of the cabin while the others started looking for their sleeping spots.

Sansa woke all at once, every nerve atingle. For a moment she did not remember where she was. She had dreamt that she was little, still sharing a bedchamber with her sister Arya. But it was Rickon tossing in his sleep beside her, not their sister, and this was not Winterfell, but a cabin somewhere in the woods near White Harbour. Her husband was not sleeping beside her, Sansa registered at once, due to the lack of Sandor's snores and his warm large body. Was that what woke me? Not having Sandor beside me? She wondered.

The little cottage's window was letting the first hints of daylight stream through it in this cold morning, yet Sansa was warm due to her fur-trimmed coat. It was barely past dawn, she reckoned, trying to recall the dream she'd been having. Home. It was a dream of home.

Even though Sansa was close to Winterfell now- or at least the closest as she had ever been since the day she set out to the south with her father and Arya and all of King's Robert's court- Sandor among them- she could not go home yet. First she had to go to White Harbour, and see if the Manderlys were truly willing to stand behind her and Rickon and join the war with Stannis Baratheon, thwarting the Boltons, the Lannisters and the Freys, and even the Greyjoys.

Sansa wished she could be certain that all would go well, but life had taught her to be cautious. As she laid on the bedroll she and Rickon shared, her mind wandered off to the visit she had paid to the seat of House Manderly with her father and Arya when they had been little girls, but the memories she had of that trip were not very helpful in helping her deduce what kind of a welcome she could expect in the city.

She could only remember how excited she had been at seeing the sea for the first time, as well as the way she had felt like a mermaid under the sea when she set foot inside the court room of Lord Manderly. Regarding the kind old man, whom Sansa recalled was offensively fat, there was only a vague conversation in her mind between her lady mother and her father in which the latter told the former that Wyman Manderly was loyal to the bones to the Starks, allowing her to form some sort of the idea about the character of Lord Wyman.

But Lord Manderly maybe won't even be in White Harbour if what he told Davos is true, Sansa reminded herself. When Lord Wyman and Robett Glover had told Lord Seaworth that they wished for him to go to Skagos and look for Rickon and Shaggydog and Osha, Manderly had confessed that he was going to Winterfell attended by the Freys and a hundred of his knights, to both witness Arya's marriage to Ramsay Snow and to bend the knee to Roose Bolton all at once.

That is only if the girl the Lannisters handed over to the Boltons is really Arya though. It was so hard for Sansa to believe that it was her sister whom the Boltons had married to Roose Boton's bastard. Sandor had told her that on the day when her father fell from grace and their household was killed, Arya had escaped Ser Meryn Trant with the aid of her dancing master when the former was sent to look for her in the Tower of the Hand. The members of the Kingsguard had mocked Ser Meryn for letting a little girl slip right through his fingers.

Her real sister would be eleven by now. Sansa could almost see her in that moment, long-faced and gawky, all knobby knees and sharp elbows, with her dirty face and tangled hair. By what Lord Davos had told Sansa and Sandor about Ramsay Snow, Sansa could only feverishly pray that it was not really her sister who had been married to that monster.

If it was Arya, no matter how afraid her little sister was, she would not show it to anyone as they married her against her will. If Snow tries to lay a hand on her, she will fight him. Whether or not that was wise in such a situation, Sansa could not even begin to imagine.

I am not going back to sleep, Sansa realized. My head is all a tumult. Shifting around on the bedroll, Sansa sat up and then her eyes fell on Rickon, who was still fast asleep, looking so peaceful it was hard to remember the way he had been behaving since the day they had arrived at the this little deserted house. But at least he is talking now, she thought. And wants to be with me again. That was a great comfort.

Sansa leaned down and smoothed her brother's hair out of his face, whispering, "I love you, Rickon," before kissing his cheek. He didn't wake up, for which Sansa was grateful. It was better that he rested and gained back his strength. Sighing, she ensured Rickon's cloak was about him before standing up, smoothing down the skirts of her dress and her fur-trimmed coat. She met Osha's gaze as the wildling checked the direwolf's paws, whispering so as not to wake her brother, "Good morning, Osha."

"Morning, little lady," the woman replied.

"Do you know where-?"

"He's gone out. Just a short while ago," Osha informed her, already aware that Sansa was going to ask about Sandor's whereabouts, as she took a drink from her waterskin.

"Thank you," Sansa replied, putting on her shoes before she slipped the dagger she had taken from that dead archer so long ago in the Kingswood beneath her coat, knowing Sandor would like her to be cautious.

"Will you please tell Rickon that I will come back?" Sansa requested. "If he asks for me, I mean."

"Oh that he will," Osha replied, looking over at her sleeping brother.

Sansathanked Osha with a hesitant smile for that before she excused herself, stepping out of the crofter's cottage, smiling a little as she remembered that a life time ago she would have been too scared to even leave the confines of the small house, let alone go looking for her husband in the woods by herself.

Sandor was nowhere to be seen, so Sansa made her way to the sluggish stream that ran at the end of the grove of trees where the cabin was located, and knelt before it so she could wash her hands and her face in its cool waters, thinking that later today she would wash her feet here in an attempt to ease the numbness she always felt at the sole of her feet after a long tiring day of walking through the woods.

Maybe today will be the day when the others find us, Sansa thought, with hope. Seven days had already passed since they had last seen their friends. If the gods were good, Hagen and Davos would soon find them here, along with members of House Manderly if all went as planned. Sansa was both anxious and hesitant about revealing herself and Rickon to her former brother's bannermen, but there was nothing to do about it now but wait.

I wonder what will the noblewomen of White Harbour will say when they see me, Sansa mused, standing up and looking around the grove of trees, trying to figure out in which direction her big man had strode off to.

Rickon, Osha, Sandor and even herself were starting to look like a bunch of savages from one of Osha's tales from beyond the wall, with mud caked n their hair and scabs on their faces, hands, arms and legs, the clothes on their backs quickly staring to deteriorate into dirty rags. Even Sansa's beautiful fur-trimmed coat was already filthy and matted, making her almost regret having to change into one of the thick woolen gowns she had bought back in Lorath, knowing that by the end of the day it would be ruined.

She hoped that the members of House Manderlys did not change their minds or opinion of them once they laid eyes upon her and Rickon. They must expect a prince and a princess fit to be Robb's heirs, not a young woman and a skinny boy they have a hard time recognizing. But with Shaggydog's presence their identities could not possibly questioned. And once we are in White Harbour we will all be able to take a bath every day and dress in new clothes.

Sansa did not have to wander very far off to find Sandor. She was walking from tree to tree, running her palms against their trunks lightly, when she came upon the seashore and stopped with a smile on her face as she saw that her husband was swimming in the ocean. Of course, he loves to swim in the sea, no matter how cold the water is.

Her eyes fell on Sandor's clothes, discarded beside a fallen log nearby. He had taken his tunic, boots, swordbelt, boiled leather and mail shirt off, swimming only in his breeches. When she returned her gaze to Sandor, their time in the cottage by the sea near Old Hrolf's castle came back to Sansa, and as she watched Sandor backstroking swiftly and with agility towards the shore, unaware of her watching him. The love she felt for her big man overwhelmed her as the memories of their days together ran through her mind. I do not know what I would have done without his support and his presence. He was the only comfort in this world that could help her deal with the pain that had been living inside her heart since the moment Rickon pushed her away.

Sansa stood there watching Sandor for some moments, feeling her heart beating a little faster as butterflies fluttered inside her tummy, until her husband finally saw her and grinned at her at once.

"Are you joining me this time, little bird?" Sandor rasped at her, as he walked out of the water, until the sight of his bare muscled chest was revealed to her. "Or am I going to have to run after you and get you inside again, love?"

She knew what he meant at once- the memory of Sandor chasing after her on the night she had set up a dinner for him on the beach and had refused to swim in the Shivering Sea with him making her laugh. He caught me and carried me in his arms to the sea and it was wonderful, even if the water was freezing.

"I'll join you," Sansa told Sandor now, walking over to the sea, stopping at the place where the waves met her feet. She locked her gaze with Sandor's grey one, and saw the same desire she was feeling reflected in his grey stormy eyes. If there anything in this world right now that I really need, it's him.

She turned around to consider the chances of being seen by her brother or Osha, but concluded that the wildling woman knew it would not be wise for her or Rickon to come this way looking for them for a time.

Sandor walked over to meet her as Sansa, already feeling the blush that was creeping up her neck, started to unlace her gown from behind, letting it slip to the ground. When he reached her, with his eyes roaming all over her body, Sandor brought one hand to the back of her head and wrapped it in her hair, pulling Sansa's head back, his mouth closing in on hers at once hungrily, making her smile into the kiss when she felt Sandor's left hand on her breasts.

They made love for the first time since arriving at Westeros, there in the cold waters of The Bite in the early hours of that morning only as eager lovers could, and Sansa even forgot for a while her worries and concerns and the whole wide world, since being with her husband- laughing and playing and bathing in the sea with him like this- had them losing themselves in each other in a matter of moments.

Sansa was resting her head on Sandor's chest as she laid upon the ground beside him, both of them at ease and content as they played with each other's hands, their legs tangled together, letting a comforting silence settle between them. For even if they both had their reasons, as Sandor took his wife, it had been evident that they had both fucking missed to be with each other like this.

Sandor had needed to feel that sweet release after almost a week of only being able to kiss or touch the little bird as they huddled together by the fire at night; and Sansa had needed to feel loved after everything that had happened since she had told Rickon of Catelyn and Robb Stark's deaths on the day they came upon the deserted cabin.

It had all started when they were all seating around the cooking fire at midday. Rickon had gone to fetch his waterskin, and when he came back, he'd asked Sandor when they would start training again.

"It's been days since we last trained," the boy pointed out. "Hagen hasn't been here to help me either. I've only skinned animals and practiced finding the way north by the stars. I want to do something fun."

"Skinning your dinner and knowing your way around the dark woods at nights are useful skills to learn, little lord," Osha had told Rickon, making the boy look at his feet with an uncertain frown.

Sandor told Rickon that they could start that very afternoon, since now that they had settled in the deserted house, they could afford to spend their time in that. After all, there was nothing wrong in the boy wishing to practice daily in order to be able to pick up blunt steel as soon as they reached White Harbour.

"Good," Sansa's brother had said, happily. "I have to practice soon or I am not going to be as good at it anymore. I don't want that. When we reach Winterfell, Mother and Robb have to see I'm as good as my elder brothers."

Fuck, Sandor had thought, exchanging a glance with Sansa, who was gulping and rubbing her hands nervously together. The little bird had still not told her brother the truth about what had happened at the Red Wedding. Sandor had seen over the past days in the wild how several times Sansa would open her mouth as if to finally speak the truth, but something in her brother's face always stopped her, for in the blink of an eye her courage would leave her, thinking better of it.

"The fire needs to be fed," the wildling woman remarked casually, looking at the little bird.

Sandor and Sansa understood. Even Osha knew that Rickon could not go to White Harbour without knowing that his father's bannermen would be looking to him as the Stark heir that would reunite the north once again. He could overhear someone mentioning the Freys' betrayal, or start asking questions about why the Manderlys were pleading their allegiance to him rather than his kingly brother.

Sansa almost winced as Rickon went on, asking, "Will we send a raven to them when we are in White Harbour, Sansa? I want to see them. And Grey Wind. I bet Shaggy is as big as him by now!"

He didn't like to see the little bird looking so tense or unsure, but before he could even blink it seemed that Rickon's last words were just too much for Sansa, for she stood up after taking a deep breath, saying, "Yes Rickon, but first, why don't you come with me to fetch some sticks for the fire?"

Seven hells, Sandor had thought, starting to stand up as well, unsure if the bird would want him or not for some kind of support. But Sansa turned her face in his direction and gave him a small reassuring smile to let him know that though she was grateful, she needed to do this alone.

Sansa had told Shaggydog to stay by the fire, but the wolf never listened, stalking after her and Rickon at once. Sandor had looked at Osha then, and by the way the woman was regarding the boy, it was fucking obvious that Rickon was not going to take the bloody news kindly.

Sandor stared over in silence at the little bird as she knelt beside a great pair of rocks, watching her brother collect thick wooden sticks for the fire. He could not hear what they were saying since the siblings had walked out of earshot of the clearing but he was able to see how every passing minute, but Sandor could see the way young Rickon had started to clench his jaw and grit his teeth, before he fisted his hands and started shakng his head in disbelief.

When Sansa pulled her brother to her and hugged him, Rickon had pushed her sister away at once, screaming loud enough for Osha and Sandor to hear, "NO, they're not!"

Sandor could not help himself the moment he saw Shaggydog snarl a warning to Sansa for upsetting his master, baring his teeth at her. Fucking thrice damned buggering hells, he had thought, feeling as if his heart had lodged in his throat as he stood up at once, drawing out his sword from its scabbard, ready to use it against the bloody direwolf if it attacked Sansa. Sandor was barely aware of the wildling woman quickly following him, for his eyes were fixed on Sansa's tear-stained face and on the wolf as he ran to reach them.

The little bird had begun to plead with her brother for him to listen to her, but the boy was past caring. He yelled angrily, "No! You stop saying that, Sansa! You stop! They're alive!"

Shaggydog's green eyes were fixed on Sansa as he started walking around her and Rickon, full of fury, his fangs still bare in rage.

"Please, Rickon," Sansa had begun to say, choking back a sob. "It is true. You have to understand that-"

But before she could even finish her brother had swirled around and ran away from her, as fast as his legs could carry him. The direwolf had snarled at the little bird one last time before leaping back, swiftly stalking after his master like some restless dark shadow in the wild woods.

When Sandor had reached Sansa, he had fallen to his knees beside her, his longsword forgotten as he wrapped his arms around his bird, so fucking relieved that she had come out of this whole bloody mess unharmed. He had stared at Osha quickly as she ran after Rickon and Shaggy, before taking Sansa's face in his hands so he could get her attention, as he asked her if she was all right, and what had happened.

"I have to go look for him before he gets hurt," was all she had replied, struggling in his arms.

He had opened his mouth to say something, but as Sandor gazed down at his bird's worried grief-stricken face, no words came out. Letting go of her slowly, he had finally rasped, "We'll go look for him together."

Sandor was not going to lose sight of Sansa as she went looking for her brother in the woods. The little bird did not even seem to have heard him. When he let her go of her, she had turned around and started running after her brother at once, with Sandor following her a heartbeat later.

It took them all day to find Rickon. The hours had seemed to creep by slowly as they looked for the boy everywhere, or for any sign of Shaggydog that they could find. Sandor had rarely seen Sansa looking as worried as she did that day. She even tripped more than once while she ran through the woods, getting up the next moment determinedly, with a new scratch on her hands or her face. Seven thrice damned hells, he had cursed silently the fourth time that had happened, going to one knee to see if she was all right, rasping, "Bird, you have to calm down. You are going to hurt yourself if you keep on going like this."

Sansa had shaken her head, and replied hoarsely, "I should not have told him. He was not ready."

"He was never going to be ready for something like that," he had answered. "But Rickon had to learn the truth. If you hadn't done this, once your brother was old enough to understand, he would have ended up resenting you. I know you don't think it looks that way right now, but you just made sure that you would never lose his trust."

As his bird sniffed, clearly not really listening to his words in these moments, Sandor had shaken his head resignedly standing up and offering Sansa his hand to pull her to her feet, snarling, "Come. Let's keep on searching for him. We need to find him before it gets dark."

It wasn't until an hour after dusk that they stumbled upon Osha coming out of a clearing. They began to ask her at once if she had found Rickon.

"Yes, he's fallen asleep before a weirdwood tree in the clearing back there," she'd replied. "Shaggydog found me first."

Sandor had been surprised at hearing Rickon was asleep, for he had imagined that the boy would be hiding somewhere with a rock in his hand, ready to slash at the first one of them that found him. Sansa had covered her mouth with her hands, gasping, "Oh gods," before walking over to the clearing, Osha and Sandor following her at once. A short distance away there had been a footpath of sorts, with moss and half-buried dirt beneath fallen leaves, made treacherous by thick brown roots pushing up from underneath for over a thousand years ago.

The little bird led the way to the clearing in the deep of the wood where giant weirwoods had been growing in a rough circle. The air in that place had smelt of earth and decay, making Sandor feel as if they all had suddenly entered some strange underworld, some timeless place beneath the worlds.

There were three heart trees, each with a different face carved into it: one was smiling, one was screaming, and one looked angry. But the eyes in all three had been crusted with dried sap, red-blood. Rickon had been sleeping peacefully before the angry looking tree, with Shaggydog beside him, sitting on his haunches. The wolf had stared at them all weary for a moment, but had made no move to stop them as they approached his master.

That night and the next day none of them could make Rickon talk. The boy had silently agreed to return with them back to the sodding crofter's cottage, but had willfully refused to talk or eat or even be in the same room with them, going to the stable at the back of the cabin just so he could be alone and brood over how the world had fucked him up once again, looking red-eyed and defiant all the while. The wildling woman had seemed concerned for the boy but not surprised, and Sansa had been hurt at her brother's behavior when Osha managed to coax the first words from Rickon hours later.

Sandor did not try to talk to the boy in those first days, for he knew what Rickon must have been feeling, just as he knew it was better to let him grieve alone until the initial shock passed. It was just like Sansa had reacted back in Braavos when the bird had learned about the deaths of her mother and brother.

When he pointed that out to her in an attempt to make her realize that Rickon was not taking the news so differently from the way she had, his little bird had stopped going to the stable at the back of the house to check on her brother, spending her time instead in silent bloody prayer.

By nightfall on the second day, Rickon had surprised them all as he silently entered the crofter's cabin with Shaggydog, walking over to his sister and throwing his arms around her without a word. Both of them had started to cry then, clinging to one another desperately, to the point where Osha and Sandor knew that it was best to leave the siblings alone. That night Rickon fell asleep beside Sansa on the bedroll they shared, after he had made her promise to him over and over again that she would not leave him, while the little bird cradled him in her arms…

"What are you thinking?" Sandor asked Sansa when he came back to the present as Sansa stretched her body next him.

"About you," she admitted softly, burying her face into his chest, snuggling closer to him, as he lightly ran his hand up and down the length of her back. She was only wearing her underclothes right now, while he was only clad in his breeches, their clothes discarded some distance away, close to the sea.

"Me?" he growled, tilting his neck to the side so that he could try and catch a glimpse of his little wife's face, but all he could see was the top of her head.

"Yes," she said, nodding. "About how at ease you looked in the sea when I found you. About how you truly look like a northerner with your grey eyes and dark hair. You should have been born up here. The men of the north are strong and that is what you are. Not only as a warrior, but you are my strength too."

Sandor chuckled, a rough sour sound. "Aye, I might look like one, but I don't think that will improve what the northerners will think of me, little bird."

Sansa shifted on the ground at that, propping herself up with one elbow, one hand on her cheek and the other one playing with the hair on his chest, as she asked him, "And since when have you cared what people think or say about you?"

"Bugger that, bird. I never have, but you know I do care what they think or say about you," he snarled, grabbing Sansa's shoulders and drawing her closer to him until she was laying on him, sprawled across his chest. Sansa silently leaned down so that she could kiss him, caressing his scarred lips with her tongue as she pressed her body down against him, running her hands through his scarred scalp and his hair.

Sandor deepened the kiss, letting his hands roam all over his bird's body, caressing every line and curve, until Sansa moaned into his mouth when he jerked his hips upwards, pressing his need against her. The little bird drew an intake of breath at that, breaking the kiss, before she buried her pretty face on the crook of his neck, kissing him there.

When they drew apart after a time, Sandor, breathing heavily against Sansa's mouth, asked his bird, "Talking about the north, you remember that godswood where we found your brother?"

Sansa nodded even as she went on kissing his neck and, he continued with a hoarse growl, "Would you marry me there today, little bird?"

Sandor was from the Westerlands, and had been born in the light of the Seven, but it had been a lifetime ago since he had prayed to any gods. Makes no fucking matter anyways. They still had to marry by her father's gods, which was the faith almost all of the north followed. And now that we have finally found a white and red tree, I don't think it wise to wait any longer.

"Oh yes!" Sansa exclaimed at once, leaning back, meeting his gaze with those bright blue eyes of hers that resembled a sunlit sea in which he would happily let himself drown. "Oh gods, I- I had forgotten about that because of what happened to Rickon, but yes darling, of course. We should get married by the old gods before it is too late, nothing would make me happier!"

She was looking down at him with a smile as bright as the sun as she said those words, which made him feel certain that he was likely going to remember this moment till the day he died. Sandor reached out a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind Sansa's ear, laughing. His bird raised an eyebrow at him, tracing the outline of his scarred mouth with her finger with a thoughtful expression.

When his laughter died away he rasped, "How is your brother?"

"He was asleep when I left the cottage," Sansa replied, running her feet along the length of his legs, the expression in her eyes unreadable. "But you saw him last night. I- I think he is a little better, and has deep down come to believe that I told him is true. But I don't think he will be truly accepting for the time being."

He could hear the grief in Sansa's voice, and as he remembered the time he had spent on the galley with Rickon, getting to know the boy better, Sandor found himself saying confidently, "Rickon will be angry for a long time, Sansa, and I doubt he will ever forget the wrongs he has suffered. Not that he bloody should though. But you love your brother, bird. Rickon is aware of it just as you know that he feels the same for you. And that will help you both."

Sansa's face had changed as he said those words, and when he was done, she chirped softly, "Have I ever told you how much I love you, Sandor? I do, so very, very much. These past two days with Rickon, I- I wouldn't have- thank you for being there for me, big man."

The way she looked at him when she said that tore at Sandor's heart to the point where he wondered if all of this was not really only just a fucking dream. He had discovered that he felt like this at times; whenever his beautiful wife blushed prettily at him after he caressed her neck or whispered something in her ear, or when she said how much she loved him, or asked him if she made him happy. But that feeling always only lasted for some moments, for Sandor would then remember that it was not a dream but reality, and his little bird was truly his, and after her there really wasn't anything better he could ever want in this life.

"Come here, she-wolf" was all Sandor could growl now, cupping his wife's face and kissing her hard until she parted her full soft lips, deepening the kiss as she slid her tongue inside his mouth, happy in the knowledge that the range of love Sansa was capable of was mostly his; and glad because most of the times when she was looking at him, a smile would appear on her beautiful face- something which he had longed for so long back in King's Landing that made it all the more important to him now.

In the matter of moments, his eager little bird reached between them so that she could take his hard-throbbing cock in her hand as she sat up, straddling him, ready to guide him deep inside of her again as he grinded himself against her, his hands on her hips.

Sandor let out a low groan, holding Sansa hard against him, growling, "Fucking hells, little bird, don't stop."

Later that day Sandor, Sansa, Rickon, Osha and Shaggydog all went to the godswood. Sansa was dressed in the same white and grey gown she had worn for her wedding to Sandor by the Seven back in Braavos, the cloak of House Stark once again clad about her shoulders, while Sandor wore the remaining clean tunic that he had, as well as patched brown breeches and his leather jerkin, with the cloak in the colours of House Clegane which she had embroidered for him falling down his broad muscled back.

All Sansa seemed able to do now as they walked through the forest was to thank her father's gods for allowing her to be with Sandor. Thank you for looking after us in Essos, and thank you because we are still alive. And also, thank you because Rickon has not pushed me away in his grief. But most of all, Sansa was thanking the gods because both Sandor and she were so committed to taking care of their love, and were willing to make it work no matter what lay in store for them.

Sansa had feared this yesterday since her brother had refused to talk to her for a long time, but by nightfall, thanks in part to Osha, Rickon had gone to seek comfort with Sansa at last, and they had both ended up crying in each other's arms as they remembered how it had felt to be at Winterfell with their father and mother and brothers and sister.

And even this morning when Sansa and Sandor had come back from the seashore, arm in arm, the moment Rickon saw her he had run to her with a worried face, asking her where had she gone, and had then refused to have her out of his sight all day long. It seemed as if he feared he would lose Sansa if he was not with her every moment. The only time he had agreed to leave her was when Sandor had proposed that they should practice their fighting lessons as a distraction. Sansa's big man had told her later that he had never seen Rickon so passionate and focused in learning how to wield a sword. Osha had joked that it seemed as if the little lordling was stealing Hagen Edar's place as her sworn arrow in their absence, since it was now her brother who was the one following her around everywhere.

Sansa knew that since her brother and a wildling woman would be the only witnesses that would attend her wedding ceremony this time, most of the people who would disapprove of her marriage to Sandor would say that it was not valid because of it, but Sansa did not care. This ceremony was true to her and Sandor, and that was all that really mattered in the end. If they want us to marry again before them then we will do so as many times as its necessary.

She just wanted to do this because she knew it was not only necessary for her to marry her big man before the old gods, but because it was important to her as a Stark. And even if Sandor does not believe in any gods, he is willing to go through the wedding ceremony again. That thought made her smile and reach out for Sandor's hand as they finally reached the godswood, giving it a squeeze.

The moment Sansa laid eyes upon the three heart trees, a certain sense of peace descend upon her heart as she remembered how she had felt two days ago when she had finally gazed upon a weirdwood tree after so long, even if she had been worried sick about Rickon's disappearance. Sansa looked up at Sandor, who was regarding the godswood before them with his usual scowl, and smiled, leading him into the clearing, his hand still in hers.

"Come, big man," she said, approaching the weirwoods as her heart started beating inside her chest in excitement, aware that Osha, Rickon and Shaggydog had stopped outside the clearing to watch from a respectful distance. Sandor only grunted and followed her.

When Sandor and Sansa were before the smiling heart tree, Sansa knelt down, smoothing her skirts in the process. Sandor stood for a moment unsure as to what was expected of him, but a heartbeat later Sansa heard him taking a deep breath before he also went down to his knees, staring at the weirwood before them. Sansa fixed her attention on the heart tree as well, glad that she was not as nervous as she had been on her wedding under the Faith, because in this ceremony it was she the one that needed to take the lead.

The heart trees looked to be the same age and size, still possessing a timeless beauty that made them just as imposing to Sansa as when she had been a little girl visiting the weirwood in Winterfell's godswood with her father and brothers and Arya. The trees' wide smooth trunks were bone pale, and their bony limbs where spread wide, and about their trunks on the forest floor, fallen five-pointed leaves lay carpeted in drifts of red and brown.

"What do we do now?" Sandor asked, looking at her.

"We pray," she replied.

Sandor stared at her in a way that made it clear he was not going to start talking to a tree, so she only shrugged in answer to his reaction and said, "The gods are watching us."

Silence reigned in the clearing for a time as Sansa looked into the red eyes of the carved face upon the weirdwood, wondering if Sandor could really not feel as if the old gods were looking right inside his soul the way she was did as she opened her heart to them. She could almost believe at times that the gods were trying to talk back to her with every gust of wind that ran through the clearing.

With a resigned shake of her head, Sansa clear her throat to gather her thoughts, and began to thank the gods for allowing her to find a man whom she could know real love with. A man who was loyal and strong and brave and gentle, and true, before she started praying for the Manderlys to support their cause, and for her and Rickon to be able to be reunited with Bran and Arya and Jon again, as well as for the war ahead and the promised long winter that was taking over all of the Seven Kingdoms after the years of the long summer.

There was a moment when Sansa, lost in her prayers, thought she had heard someone whisper her name, but when she opened her eyes and saw that her big man was still staring at the heart tree with narrowed eyes, Sansa gathered that it must have been the faint sound of leaves rustling that had disturbed the solemn peace of the godswood.

Sandor caught her staring at him and she quickly turned around to look at him. She gave him a reassuring smile to let him know it was time.

"Tell them who you are," she whispered at him, when he arched an eyebrow at her, waiting for a signal, not caring one bit if this was not the exact manner in which wedding ceremonies in the north proceeded, but there was no one to give her away but Rickon who was still too young to stand in their father's place. So long as the old gods see us, it should be enough for me and Sandor and them.

Sandor nodded in understanding and turned to look at the smiling weirdwood before him before he said in a strong rough voice, "I am Sandor of House Clegane, and I come here to claim Sansa of House Stark as my lady and my wife, whom I worship and promise to keep safe until my last day."

"And I am Sansa of House Stark," Sansa replied confidently once Sandor was done and had lowered his eyes to hers, her gaze flickering between the heart tree and her big man. "I am a woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble, seeking the blessing of the gods in my marriage to Sandor of House Clegane, the man I love with all my heart. I take this man for my lord and husband."

Sansa had memorized the wedding vows in both of her parents' faiths by heart, glad that she had not forgotten the correct words at present, before she joined hands with Sandor. Her big man's calloused thumb began to caress her skin as she bowed her head in the direction of the heart tree in a token of submission after Sandor has said, "I take you for my lady and wife."

As Sandor said those words, Sansa caught the solemnity behind her big man's rough voice, which made her smile, finding it comforting as she found herself wishing she could kiss him in that moment. When he was done speaking and Sansa had stared for a little too long at Sandor, she had to quickly shake her head in an attempt at gathering herself, before returning her attention to the old gods. After a moment of silent prayer she squeezed Sandor's hand and said softly, "Now we must exchange cloaks."

"Aye, bird," he snarled, standing up.

Sandor pulled her gently to her feet, grinning down at her. The sight of his warm smile was so precious to Sansa that no words she could ever come up with would really let Sandor know just how much she treasured being the one that brought that smile to his face.

So instead, with tears of joy threatening to fall down her cheeks at any moment, Sansa placed her hand above the strong beating heart of Sandor for support as she stood on tip toes and cupped her husband's burned cheek in her hand.

"Little bird," Sandor said, his voice raw and harsh as steel on stone, leaning into her touch.

When he began to lower his head so that he could claim her mouth, Sansa giggled and took a step back, her fingertips caressing Sandor's neck as she said, "The cloaks first, big man."

Her husband snorted and nodded in agreement, almost rolling his eyes at her. Sandor stepped behind her and undid her maiden's cloak, saying, "Rickon, could you please help us?"

Sansa's little brother nodded and walked into the godswood so that he could grab the cloak of House Stark from Sandor's arms so that her husband could fasten a yellow cloak with three black dogs running on it upon her shoulders. Sansa smiled at Rickon as Osha walked over to help him with the cloak that was heavier than he could manage, and winked at him when her brother met her eyes.

Sandor's hands never shook as he clasped his cloak about her shoulders. Quick as that, the wedding was done. Weddings went more quickly in the north. Sansa supposed that it came of not having any priests to preside over the ceremony.

Looking up at Sandor's face as he came to stand before her, Sansa stared deep into her big man's grey eyes as he regarded her with a strange expression, smiling as she recognized the glint of amusement in them.

"What?" she asked, taking a step closer to him.

"Can I kiss you now?" Sandor rasped, drawing a laugh from her.

"Yes you may," she finally replied, wondering how she could blush now, after everything they had lived through. She took Sandor's hand in her own and placed a kiss on his palm, saying, "We are married by the Old Gods too now."

Her big man scooped her by the waist at once and raised her easily in his arms until she was hovering in the air before him, looking down at him, her body pressed against the length of Sandor's tightly. She laughed, overwhelmed by the happiness and joy she was feeling in these moments, wrapping her arms around Sandor's neck as he slowly lowered her until she had her arms securely wrapped around his neck, and kissed her at last. Her lips parted for Sandor's tongue even as her feet still dangled in the air, Sansa heard Osha mutter to her brother, "Come little lord. Let's give them a few moments alone."

They were both a bit breathless when Sandor set her back on the ground as Rickon began to protest, but then the wildling woman told him that Sansa was not going to disappear into thin air if he lost sight of her for a time. Her brother followed Osha after that in sullen silence.

Once they were alone in the middle of the weirdwood clearing with only the gods to watch over them, Sansa took hold of Sandor's hand and placed the other one on his muscled chest, right above the spot where she could feel the strong beating of his heart.

"What in seven hells are you doing, bird?" Sandor growled suspicious, looking down at her pointedly.

Taking a step closer to him, Sansa said in a voice barely louder than a whisper or the sound of the wind rustling the heart trees' leaves, "Hush. Don't say anything. Please just- just hold me."

They were now married by the Old Gods and the New, but they had not had a proper wedding feast or even a wedding. I just want to have at least one dance with him to remember our wedding day by.

A heartbeat later, Sansa's big man brought one of his hands beneath her wedding cloak until it rested on the small of her back, as his other circled her waist, making Sansa beam up at him. It was not exactly a dance. Sandor just stood there allowing her to sway him slightly backwards and forward, but it did not matter to Sansa, since she had already started to relish the closeness of having her husband's powerful body against her, overwhelmed at how nice and safe she felt in his strong arms. When Sandor started tracing circles with his hand on her back, Sansa fisted the fabric of his leather jerking in her hand, wishing to feel the hard muscle underneath, and raised her head to meet her love's eyes when her big man rasped, "Little bird, look at me."

Rubbing his nose against hers, Sandor growled her name before he claimed her mouth slowly, making her sigh in happiness as he kissed her until she was breathless and dizzy and vexed at him for breaking the kiss, teasing her, and leaving her desiring for more…

He padded over the dry needles and brown leaves, towards the edge of the deep wood where the trees grew thin. The wolf had first caught the scent the moment he left night behind the den men had built of wood and grass and mud.

Stepping beneath a rock, the wolf sniffed. Men. The sigh of a piney wind brought the man-scents to him again, over fainter smells that spoke of horse and hare and other prey. He had caught their rank smell from a long distance, and now he stalked towards the place where it came from as fast as he could. He had no fear of men, but he knew that men in packs were dangerous for his master and the others.

When he found them the wolf stared at the men and the horses riding past him behind the hill where he had hidden, and was just about to go meet them at the foot of the hill when a voice inside him whispered, You know those men.

A/N: I hope you liked this chapter (: Please let me know. Your reviews mean SO much to me, and I appreciate it more than you know that you take the time to read the updates!