Visions in the flames, a surprising alliance and the spreading of wings. More show script, but twisted as per usual.

Sandor

The wind was howling, making it feel even colder than it was. The sight of the farm in the distance covered in snow, was hope of a welcome respite from the shitty weather. Sandor Clegane, along with Thoros of Myr, Beric Dondarrion, and several other members of the Brotherhood Without Banners had decided to ride towards the farm, despite there being no smoke from the chimney. Of course, Sandor knew why there was no smoke from the chimney, because there was nobody living in the house. It had been empty for years. Sandor knew that because he had been here before.

"Bad night to be outdoors." Thoros of Myr observed.

"You've got real powerful magic to figure that out. Did the Lord of Light whisper that in your ear? It's snowing, Thoros. It's windy. It's gonna be a cold night." Sandor said, sarcastically.

"You're a grouchy old bear, aren't you, Clegane? You want some rum?" Thoros held out a skin of rum to him.

"Don't like that shit. It's too sweet." Sandor shook his head.

"Why are you always in such a foul mood?" Thoros asked.

"Experience." Sandor replied as the horses came to a stop.

"This seems like a good place to spend the night." Beric said as they all stared at the farmhouse.

"These people don't want us here." Sandor tried to urge them away.

"Seems deserted to me. No livestock. No smoke coming from the chimney." Beric urged his horse onwards, and the rest of the Brotherhood followed.

"I don't like the look of it." Sandor shook his head, he knew this place and he didn't want to see it again.

Thoros got down from his horse. "For a big, hard man, you scare easy."

"I'll tell you what doesn't scare me: bald cocksuckers like you. You think you're fooling anyone with that top knot? Bald cunt." he spat at Thoros.

Thoros smiled. "Come on. Maybe they've got some ale hidden away."

"They don't." Sandor sighed, but nobody was listening.

Some of the Brothers walked inside the farmhouse, followed by Thoros, while Sandor waited just outside, not wanting to go in. "See if there's a larder. They always leave something behind." Sandor heard Thoros suggest. He heard the sound of crockery and pans being moved, so he walked inside, Beric followed him.

The first thing Sandor saw was two skeletons in the corner, one adult-sized and the other child-sized. "How do you think it ended for them?" Beric asked.

"With death." Sandor huffed, a sadness and a touch of deep-rooted guilt crept into him.

"Girl died in her father's arms. Both of them covered in blood and a knife at their feet. I'd say they were starving. And rather than letting his little girl suffer, he ended it for both of them." Beric said sadly.

"Doesn't matter now." Sandor shook his head.

"No, doesn't matter now." Beric said sadly as Sandor sat at the table and Beric joined him. Sandor bit into a hunk of bread he'd took out of his saddlebag, it was almost frozen. At the other end of the room, Thoros was starting a fire in the fireplace.

"I've known you a long time, Dondarrion." Sandor chewed.

"Aye. I think the first time we met was at that tournament..." Beric began.

"And I always thought you were dull as dirt." Sandor nodded, Beric chuckled. "You're not bad. I don't hate you. Don't like, but you're not bad."

"Thank you, Clegane. That warms the heart." Beric smiled.

"But there's nothing special about you." Sandor frowned.

"You're right about that." Beric agreed.

"So why does the Lord of Light keep bringing you back? I've met better men than you, and they've been hanged from crossbeams, or beheaded, or just shat themselves to death in a field somewhere. None of them came back. So, why you?" Sandor asked, genuinely curious.

"You think I don't ask myself that? Every hour of every day? Why am I here? What am I supposed to do? What does the Lord see in me?" Beric looked perplexed.

"And?" Sandor wanted to know.

"I don't know. I don't understand our Lord." Beric sighed.

"Your Lord." Sandor knew he was about to start with the red god shit again. He shouldn't have opened his fucking mouth.

"I don't know what He wants from me. I only know that He wants me alive." Beric told him.

"If he's so all-powerful, why doesn't he just tell you what the fuck he wants?" Sandor bit into the bread.

"Clegane." Thoros called out. Sandor looked back at Thoros, who was kneeling by the fire. "Come over here. Don't worry. The fire won't bite. I want to show you something."

"It's my fucking luck I end up with a band of fire worshippers." Sandor rolled his eyes.

"Aye. Almost seems like divine justice." Beric nodded.

"There's no divine justice, you dumb cunt. If there was, you'd be dead...and that girl would be alive." Sandor said angrily before standing up and walking closer to the fire."What do you want?"

"Look into the flames." Thoros told him.

"I don't want to look in the damn flames." Sandor snarled.

"You saw me bring him back from the dead after you cut him down. Don't you want to know what gave me the power?" Thoros asked.

"I keep asking and no one wants to tell me." Sandor complained.

"We can't tell you. Only the fire can tell you." Thoros beckoned him to look into the flames. Sandor approached the fire and looked into it. "What do you see?" the red priest asked.

Sandor looked at the fire. "Logs burning."

"Keep looking. What do you see?" Thoros insisted, so Sandor decided to take it seriously and stared at the flames. Shapes in the hearth twisted and turned, forming places and what appeared to be a story.

"Ice. A wall of ice. The Wall." Sandor told them, the wall along the northern edge of Westeros being the obvious location, except it wasn't in the middle, it was next to the sea.

"What else?" Thoros asked.

"It's where the Wall meets the sea. There's a castle there." Sandor told them as the fire crackled. "He saw an army walking first south towards the wall and then making their way west. As he looked carefully, he saw the army were made up of dead men. "The dead are marching on the wall. Thousands of them." Sandor heard footsteps approach from behind.

"Do you believe me now, Clegane? Do you believe we're here for a reason?" Beric asked.

The flames changed shape, turning into a castle, one which Sandor immediately recognised, for he'd been before. He saw a white wolf and a green dragon in the courtyard. This was one vision he would keep to himself.

"Is it to fight those dead cunts?" Sandor asked.

"I suppose it is." Beric smiled. "I think it's time we all got some rest, we need to head north."

"We have to stop at Winterfell before we go to the wall." Sandor told them.

"Why?" Beric asked.

"I saw it in the flames." he shrugged.

"Who are we to argue with the flames?" Thoros took a swig of rum.

The men settled down to get some rest in the warmth of the farmhouse. However Sandor couldn't rest. The two dead bodies of the man and his daughter were still in the corner, their kind living eyes staring at him. Realising he wasn't going to get any rest, Sandor decided that at least the man and his daughter ought to be given the chance to be able to rest in peace. He got up from the floor and gently picked the bodies up from where they lay down to die. He took them outside, lit a lantern and began to dig a hole in the ground, which was frozen at the top and wet underneath. After about two hours of digging, he heard footsteps crunching in the snow.

"What the hell are you doing, Clegane?" Thoros asked.

Sandor planted his shovel in the ground. "Burying the dead." Sandor walked over to the body of the child, lifted it up, knelt down, and placed it in the hole.

"You knew these people." Thoros frowned.

"Not really." Sandor stood up and walked over to the body of the adult. He lifted it up, knelt down, and placed it in the hole. He stood back up, picked up the shovel which leaned against the mountain of dirt he'd just dug, which he started to throw back into the hole. Thoros planted his sword in the ground, put down his lantern, picked up another shovel and began helping Sandor bury the bodies. When they're finished, together they stood over the grave to pay their respects. "We ask the Father to judge us with mercy. We ask the Mother to... Fuck it, I don't remember the rest. I'm sorry you're dead. You deserved better. Both of you." he said as he tossed down his shovel and left, feeling Thoros' watchful eyes upon him.

Making their way further north turned out to be cold and not what he'd come to expect. Lannister soldiers stationed at the Twins was not a surprise. After all, some bright cunt had killed all the men in the family. Good on them. The Frey's were pieces of shit, especially after what he saw at what was known as the Red Wedding. He'd seen some shitty things in his time but murdering a pregnant woman, a man and his mother then parading him with his wolf's head stuck to his headless body was sick. He'd had to knock the little bitch out so she couldn't see what happened to her family. But that was a long time ago, now he was on his way north back to Winterfell, where in his mind, this whole shit show had started. Meeting the Starks had changed his life, and now he was heading back to that fucking grim castle again. At least he'd get to see the little bird again. He wondered what type of woman she'd become. He'd heard she was raped and tortured by Roose Bolton's bastard, who she fed to his dogs. He remembered warning her about everyone she knew becoming killers, but he'd never imagined the little bird becoming one herself. Now she was married to someone who claimed to be Aegon Targaryen; Ned Stark's bastard by all accounts. Now they were King and Queen in the North and happy together by all accounts. Sandor tried to remember him, but he'd been kept away from King Robert and the rest of the royal party, now he knew for good reason. Had the fat King gotten too close, he might have noticed something about the lad, surely he must have some of the look of his father.

When the brotherhood reached Moat Cailin, Sandor was surprised to discover the presence of more Lannister soldiers. What the fuck they were doing so far north confused him. There was no way around the neck, so when the soldiers found them and escorted them to one of the only rooms which was intact and had a working hearth, in one of the ruined towers; he thought his strange vision in the fire must have been a mistake. What he didn't expect was the Commander who faced him. Lord Jaime was the person who should have been in charge, instead it was an older woman, one whose hair was once golden, but had turned a whiter shade with age, although she was still beautiful. It had been a long time since Sandor had seen Genna Lannister.

"Hound." she said coolly.

"Lady Frey." Sandor nodded. "A bit far from home."

"As are you Clegane. What brings you so far north?"

"Me and my friends here are wanting to help at the wall. Seems like there aren't enough men and bad things are coming." he tried to at least be polite, she was one of the better and more sensible Lannister's.

"Where did you hear this?" Genna raised an eyebrow.

Deciding that maybe the truth wasn't the best way forward, he opted for a stretched version. "One of the men I'm travelling with is a red priest. He claims to see visions in the flames. Says we need to go to the wall to stop this fucking winter from killing us all."

Genna nodded. "How strange. I don't take any stock in the ramblings of the red god, but I have heard that things are gathering beyond the wall. In fact Lord Lannister has requested men to be sent there to help man some of the ruined forts. Is that your intention?" she asked.

Sandor was surprised by this. "I thought you were planning to attack Winterfell." he frowned.

Genna shook her head. "We're protecting the north from my vile niece." she screwed her face up in disgust. "Her actions killed my brother and led to the death of Tommen, her own son. Not that she cared, she just wanted his crown."

"That your soldiers at the Twins?" Sandor asked. Genna nodded. "Well they're doing a fucking useless job, we had no problem getting around the cunts."

Genna sighed and shook her head. "Emmon is about as useful as a fireguard made of ice. I'll send a raven and tell him to organise his men better. Although getting through the Twins is one thing, getting through us is a different matter." she narrowed her eyes. "Guarding the Twins makes Cersei think we are still serving her." she clasped her hands behind her back and began to pace up and down in front of the hearth. "You are in luck. I have fifty me to spare to escort you as far as Winterfell. You can speak with the King and Queen, let them deal with you. I have no jurisdiction here; my job it to make sure anyone Queen Cersei sends is dealt with and not allowed to pass. I am certain there is no love lost between you and that woman. I am also aware you had a fondness for Queen Sansa."

"I suppose." Sandor admitted. "She was a little bird last time I saw her."

"Oh, that little bird has spread her wings. Let us hope she sees you in a favourable light. The King and Queen do not tolerate those who betray them. I would say Lord Baelish could attest to that, except he can't." Genna smiled mercilessly.

That was news which did surprise Sandor. "She got him too?" he asked.

"Executed him for a number of crimes, so I hear. About time someone took him down." Genna told him. "You and your men can warm yourselves here for tonight and I will have you fed. Then you can head north to Winterfell with fifty soldiers. I will write to Lord Jaime and let him know you are on your way. Castle Cerwyn will welcome you for a night before you make your final day of the trip. I should warn you, the weather is even worse up there than it is here."

"What do you expect? It's fucking winter." Sandor shook his head, but knew he needed to at least be grateful for what little had been offered. "Well, I'm sure the brotherhood will be happy." he huffed and left the room to find them.

A fortnight later, Sandor, the Brotherhood and fifty Lannister soldiers arrived at Winterfell. It was a crisp late afternoon, the sun was low in the sky, shadows already darkening the castle. Lord Cerwyn had already warned them Jaime had gone hunting with the King and the Blackfish, which was the strangest hunting party he'd ever imagined. Nevertheless, he strolled into Winterfell not expecting anyone to welcome them, he was very wrong, for there was the little bird, except she wasn't so little anymore, and most definitely not the terrified girl he remembered. Instead in front of him stood a tall, confident and admittedly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Sandor wasn't one to care about royalty, but he couldn't help himself, he got down on his knee and bowed his head.

"You grace." he uttered.

"Stand!" she commanded. Doing as he was told, he was greeted by a small smile which told him she was happy to see him. "Ser Clegane..." she started.

"I'm no Ser." he reminded her.

"Sandor. It is good to see you once more. Could you introduce me to your companions?" she asked.

Sandor walked over to Thoros of Myr. "This is Thoros of Myr, he's a red priest...and a fucking cunt." he said, waiting to gauge her reaction, but all she did was nod with a glint in her eye. He headed over to Beric. "This is Ser Beric Dondarrion, he's a fucking dead cunt."

Sansa looked him up and down. "He doesn't look particularly dead to me." she turned to Thoros. "Did you bring him back from the dead?"

"You've heard about me, your grace?" Beric asked.

Sansa shook her head. "My husband was brought back from the dead by a red priestess."

"Which red priestess..your grace?" Thoros asked.

"The Lady Melisandre." Sansa replied. "She's at Castle Black, waiting for the army of the dead. She seems to be in tune with their whereabouts."

"That's why we're here." Beric told her. "We have been sent to fight the army of the dead."

"You fuckers have. I was sent to Winterfell." Sandor reminded them. "Can we get out of this fucking cold? My balls are freezing off." he complained.

Sansa nodded. "Follow me." she led them to what Sandor remembered to be the guest wing. He was expecting the servants chambers like before, but when he was shown his rooms, which were the highest quality he'd stayed in, he thought there must have been a mistake.

"Whose rooms are these, little bird?" he asked.

"Yours." she replied. "A warm bath will be waiting for you, then I'd like you to come to my solar, we've got much to talk about."

"Are you sure your husband won't mind? I hear he's good with a sword." Sansa's eyes drifted behind him and he turned around.

"He can beat me and the Blackfish." came the voice of the blonde knight.

"Brienne of fucking Tarth." Sandor rolled his eyes. "I should've known you'd be here."

"I thought you were dead." she raised an eyebrow.

"I will be fucking dead if I don't get a bath. I'll freeze to fucking death." he stormed into his room and turned to Sansa. "I'll be there in an hour, your grace." he bowed his head and closed the door.

An hour later, just as he promised, he was knocking on door of the solar of the Lord's chambers.

"Enter." Sansa's voice called out from the other side. Sandor walked in and saw a cosy looking room, with a desk near the window, two chairs by the hearth, where there was a roaring fire, in the middle a table, where a pitcher and two tankards stood. "Hound." Sansa, put her quill into the ink pot and stood up from her desk. She walked around it while Sandor closed the door. "Sit." she offered him a chair beside the fire.

"Your grace." he nodded before taking a seat, Sansa sat opposite him in silence, pouring out some ale. She handed him a tankard and took one for herself, all the while staring at him.

"Used to be you couldn't look at me." Sandor said.

"That was a long time ago. I've seen much worse than you since then." her voice was quiet and calm.

"Yes, I've heard. Heard you were broken in. Heard you were broken in rough." Sandor decided to try to provoke her, see if he could break through the icy exterior.

"And he got what he deserved. I gave it to him." finally he saw a small smile in her face.

"How?" although he knew the answer, he wanted to hear it from her own lips.

"Hounds."

Sandor chuckled. "You've changed, Little Bird." he took a deep drink. "None of it would have happened if you'd left King's Landing with me. No Littlefinger, no Ramsay none of it."

"Without Littlefinger and Ramsay and the rest, I would have stayed a Little Bird all my life." she told him. "Now I am happy. The journey was unpleasant, but the destination was even more wonderful than I could have ever imagined."

Sandor frowned. "You married your brother. How can that be wonderful? I'd fucking kill mine."

"Cousin, but you are right, we were raised as half-siblings. Although my mother made sure Jon and I had very little to do with each other. When we reunited, we were practically strangers, except we were family. Although not the type of family I expected." Sansa lowered her eyes and blushed.

"He treats you well?" Sandor asked.

"Oh yes." Sansa's facade dropped, a warmth seemed to spread all over her.

"You care about him?" Sandor knew it wasn't really a question, her face told him everything. However Sansa never got the chance to answer as a door opened from the other room, which Sandor realised must be her sleeping chambers. He got up, ready to draw his sword, as a short man walked in with dark hair, pulled back into a northern style bun, revealing a widows peak. The man said nothing, instead he walked over to Sansa, who simply smiled at him. He bent down and kissed her on the lips before standing up and looking at him, his eyes momentarily were what looked like a dark purple, but quickly returned to grey.

"Hound, I'd like you to meet my husband, King Aegon Targaryen, although most people know him as Jon Snow." Sansa said.

Sandor was stunned, Jon looked like Rhaegar, but with dark hair, a beard and the face shape of a Stark. Everything else was Rhaegar. "How the fuck did Robert not notice you?" he asked.

The King looked stern for a moment and then shrugged. "Probably because he never bothered to look." he replied, holding his hand out. "We were never introduced when you visited us at Winterfell with King Robert."

"I wonder why." Sandor looked at him carefully. "How the fuck could you beat Brienne of fucking Tarth and the Blackfish?"

"And a whitewalker, and a Thenn." Sansa added.

"What's a fucking whitew..." he stopped, remembering the army of the dead. "You've fought them." it wasn't a question.

"Aye. I killed one, but we lost. Thousands of Freefolk slaughtered and added to his army." Jon nodded.

"Is that why they killed you?" Sandor asked. "For not saving enough men?"

Jon shook his head. "The Night's Watch didn't want me to save any of them. So they murdered me." he pulled his tunic up, revealing his bare chest and seven wounds which had been neatly stitched, one was directly to the heart.

"The red god brought you back too?" Sandor asked.

Sansa looked up to Jon. "Thoros has brought Beric back, what is it? Six or seven times?" she turned to Sandor.

"I've no idea. Too fucking many if you ask me." he shook his head. "Beric I don't get. But you..." for some reason he could sense a purpose in Jon. Suddenly Sandor's eyes drifted to the flames and then back to Jon and Sansa. In the flames he saw Jon and Sansa her breasts naked, Jon had a fucking sword in his hand, which he plunged into her chest. Rage roared through his body as he pulled out his sword and took aim for Jon, but the King was too quick. Before Sandor had his sword unsheathed, he had the Valyrian steel sword he'd just seen in the flames pointing at his neck.

"What's going on?" Sansa stood between them.

"This cunt is going to try to kill you with that fucking sword." Sandor snarled.

Sansa looked at him in shock. "How do you know?"

"I saw it in the flames." Sandor admitted, as both Jon and Sansa looked uncomfortable.

"Touch the flat of the blade." Jon told him. "Although I'd only use the tip of your finger if I were you." Sandor looked to Sansa who nodded.

Sandor touched the blade and immediately withdrew his finger, it was like fire. He looked to Jon and Sansa. "It happened on our wedding night." she told him. That explained why they were fucking like rabbits. "I was dying. Dark Sister saved me." she added, knowing what he'd seen, and it didn't look like she was dying to him.

"Dark Sister?" Sandor looked at the sword in shock, Jon showed him the sword properly. He looked up at Jon. "You're him aren't you? The one the red god followers go on about." Jon and Sansa frowned looked at him.

"Melisandre mentioned the Prince that was Promised." Jon confirmed.

"Aye, something like that." Sandor nodded. "I think you need to talk to Thoros of Myr. That's if he's not passed out. He's usually pissed on rum."

"Does it matter?" Jon asked. "It's a name and a title I don't want."

"I'll keep it to meself." Sandor nodded. "Anyways, we want to go to the wall. Them dead fuckers are on their way to the castle near the sea."

"Eastwatch or Westwatch, we need the map." Jon nodded, looking at Sansa. "We'll call a council meeting."

"Ask Beric and Thoros to join." Sandor told them. "Thoros is usually pissed and Beric talks out of his arse, but they want to help kill the dead fuckers."

Jon nodded turning to Sansa. "Good job we postponed the hunting trip by a day." he sheathed his sword.

"What'ya hunting?" Sandor asked.

"Dragons." Jon replied.