Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12372474.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major
      Character_Death, No_Archive_Warnings_Apply, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Game_of_Thrones_(TV), A_Song_of_Ice_and_Fire_-_George_R._R._Martin
  Relationship:
      Sandor_Clegane/Sansa_Stark, Sandor_Clegane_&_Sansa_Stark, others
  Character:
      Sansa_Stark, Sandor_Clegane, Arya_Stark, Ned_Stark, Catelyn_Tully_Stark,
      Robb_Stark, Robert_Baratheon, Joffrey_Baratheon, Stannis_Baratheon,
      Gendry_Waters, Septa_Mordane, Bran_Stark, Rickon_Stark, Shireen
      Baratheon, Tywin_Lannister, Cersei_Lannister, Jaime_Lannister, Tyrion
      Lannister, Petyr_Baelish, Other_Character_Tags_to_Be_Added, Walder_Frey
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, about_10_years_after_the_prequel,
      Cute, Fluff_and_Smut, sansan, Gendrya_-_Freeform, Sandor_isnt_as_hateful
      as_he_is_in_canon, bc_reasons, Older_Man/Younger_Woman, Other_Additional
      Tags_to_Be_Added, Loss_of_Virginity, mentioning_of
      #JustGregorCleganeThings, Masturbation, Minor_Character_Death, Character
      Death
  Series:
      Part 2 of A_dented_Armor_to_protect_a_She-Wolf
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-10-15 Updated: 2018-03-28 Chapters: 26/29 Words: 60623
****** Her Knight in a dented Armor ******
by AzraelGFG
Summary
     About a decade after he helped the daughter of the Warden of the
     North to find her parents during the feast after the Greyjoy-
     Rebellion, Sandor Clegane travels north alongside King Robert.
     His hand Jon Arryn has died and now he needs a new Hand. The King
     obviously already has someone in mind.
Notes
     In Memory of LadyMotherClegane, who unfortunately passed away last
     week. I will never forget her support and lovely comments.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Sansa *****
Sansa was excited. The King would arrive within the next few days at
Winterfell.
Her father had told her and her siblings the news about two months ago, after
he had gotten the raven from the capital bringing the news of the death of the
Hand of the King, Jon Arryn.
Since her father had told her the news of the King and the whole court visiting
their ancient family home, Sansa had a hard time to find sleep every night. The
thought of seeing the Queen was too exciting.
And the prince. Ohh the beautiful prince.
Jeyne Poole and her couldn’t stop swooning over how handsome he will be
looking.
Sansa tried to remember how prince Joffrey had looked, but she couldn’t
remember. One evening while her mother was brushing her hair, she mentioned to
Sansa that she had met the prince once before, when she had traveled down to
Kings Landing for the celebration of the end of the Greyjoy Rebellion.
Sansa unfortunately had barely any memory of the event. She only remembered
that she got lost and some knight had helped her return to her parents.
Sansa had once heard her parents talk that the King was probably only making
the trip in person, because he wanted to ask their father to become his new
Hand.
After all they were friends since they had been children growing up together in
the Eyrie, with Jon Arryn.
Sansa secretly hoped that the Prince might remember her and then fall in love
with her, begging his father to ask Sansas for her hand.
She would be Queen someday and the thought excited her. Jeyne had suggested
that Sansa should tell her mother that she should talk to her father about it.
After all Septa Mordane always praised what a fine lady she had become. Sansa
would make the perfect queen someday and her handsome prince would become the
bravest king of all times.
Only a few days and King Robert would finally arrive.
                                      ***
“Where is Arya? Sansa, where´s your sister?” her mother asked, while they all
stood in the courtyard, dressed in their best clothes, awaiting King Robert.
Sansa answered with a shrug just moments before her sister sprinted towards
them, a helmet on her head.
What a waste of time, Sansa thought frustrated. Her mother had spent a good
amount of time braiding and preparing Arya’s hair, so she looked like the
highborn girl she was and Arya had destroyed all her mother’s effort with her
childish behavior.
Sansa hoped Arya wouldn’t do something embarrassing.
“Move,” Arya said while pushing Bran aside to take her spot next to Sansa.
Sansa wanted to roll her eyes, but it wouldn’t be the behavior of a lady.
First, several guards rode through the gates into the courtyard followed by the
knights of the Kingsguard in their beautiful armors.
A young man rode into the courtyard on a brown horse.
That must be the prince, Sansa assumed. He wore a red cloak and his hair was as
golden as the sun.
Sansa couldn’t take the eyes off him and barely noticed the other young man
riding next to him with his raven black hair, followed by a large man in black
armor, riding a giant black beast of a horse. His helmet was in the shape of a
hound, but she didn’t give him a longer glance, since the prince's eyes had
found her and she felt her face blush under the princess eyes.
I hope he thinks me pretty.
The wheelhouse opened and the Queen got out with her remaining children, just
as the King rode into the courtyard and they all fell to their knees to show
him the respect a king deserved.
King Robert got off his horse and walked straight over to her father, gesturing
him to get up.
Sansa’s father got up, followed by all the others in the courtyard.
Sansa looked at the King and felt disappointed. He didn’t look at all like the
man her father had always described to him.
He was fat with a scrubby beard covering his face. Sansa could smell the stench
of wine even from the distance she stood at.
“You got fat,” King Robert declared to her father. Her father only nodded
towards Robert in return, who started to laugh and gave her father a bear hug.
“Cat!” Robert declared and hugged their mother.
“Your Grace.”
“Nine years. Why haven’t I seen you? Where the hell have you been?” the King
asked their father.
“Guarding the North for you, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours.”
“Where’s the Imp?” Arya asked from the side and Sansa felt her annoyance rise
in her. Could her sister not simply be silent like it was expected of her?
“Will you shut up?” she sharply asked, but quiet enough to not get the
attention by everyone.
“Who have we here? You must be Robb,” Robert said and shook Robb´s hand before
coming to Sansa.
“My, you’re a pretty one,” he said and Sansa smiled looking to the ground
blushing.
“Your name is?” he asked Arya.
“Arya,” her sister answered quickly before continuing her attempt to spot the
Imp.
“Ooh. Show us your muscles,” he said to Bran who started to show off his
muscles, like Robb, Theon and Jon used to do after a day on the sparring field.
“You’ll be a soldier,” Kind Robert added.
One member of the Kingsguard removed his helmet and revealed his long golden
hair.
“That’s Jaime Lannister. The queen’s twin brother,” her sister explained for
everyone who wasn’t interested, in hearing what she had to say.
“Would you please shut up.”
The Queen walked towards her parents and Sansa’s parents kissed her hand in
respect.
“My queen,” her father said followed by her mother.
“Take me to your crypt. I want to pay my respects”, Robert declared, but the
Queen wasn’t excited about it.
“We’ve been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait,” Queen
Cersei said, but Robert didn’t care.
“Ned,” he simply said and her father followed Robert showing him the way to the
crypts.
“Where’s the Imp?” Arya asked again and the Queen must have heard her, much to
Sansa’s annoyance, since she gave Arya a glance before turning to her twin
brother.
Sansa couldn’t hear what she was telling him, but at this very moment she
didn’t care. Joffrey was looking at her and she felt that she was already in
love with him.
***** Ned *****
Ned showed Robert the way to the crypts. He hadn’t seen Robert since the days
after the Greyjoys had been crushed.
He had changed so much. Ned had a hard time to see the tall, muscular man with
his raven black hair, who had been swooned after by every girl in the Vale
during their childhood with Jon Arryn.
Robert now was a fat shadow of the man he had once been. His scrubby beard and
the wine stench not helping to make him seem regal.
They had reached the level of the crypts where the tomb of the woman was
located they both had loved. Ned as sister and Robert as lover.
If Lyanna could see what he had become…, Ned thought. Lyanna had been right
about him, Ned knew.
The air was cold, but damp and his hair started to stick to his forehead.
“Tell me about Jon Arryn,” Ned said.
“One minute he was fine, and then … Burned right through him, whatever it was.
I loved that man.”
Ned could hear how much the loss of their mentor hurt his old friend, as much
as it hurt him.
“We both did,” he simply said.
“He never had to teach you much, but me … You remember me at sixteen? All I
wanted to do was crack skulls and fuck girls. He showed me what was what,”
Robert said and Ned had to chuckle at the memory of the endless discussion Jon
had with Robert, when Robert had supposedly deflowered another daughter or
highborn maiden and the peasants or knights came to Lord Arryn to complain.
“Aye,” Ned simply said and gave Robert an amused glance.
“Don’t look at me like that. Not his fault I didn’t listen,” He said and both
laughed.
Robert stopped and sighed.
“I need you, Ned. Down at King's Landing. Not up here, where you’re no damn use
to anybody. Lord Eddard Stark, I would name you the Hand of the king.”
Ned had expected Robert would ask him to become his hand from the moment he had
received the raven two months ago. It wasn’t an honor he asked for, but his
sense of duty forced him to obey.
Ned knelt down.
“I’m not worthy of the honor.”
“I’m not trying to honor you. I’m trying to get you to run my kingdom while I
eat, drink, and whore my way to an early grave. Damn it, Ned, stand up. You
helped me win the Iron Throne, now help me keep the damn thing. We were meant
to rule together. If your sister had lived, we would have been bound by blood.
Well, it’s not too late. I have a son, you have a daughter. We’ll join our
Houses,” Robert declared and Ned tried to imagine his precious Sansa, with his
Joffrey. The Lannister woman’s child.
“Your Joffrey and my Sansa?” Ned carefully asked.
“The pretty redhead?” Robert asked. “No, the other one. The one that looks like
a young Lyanna.”
“Arya?”
“Aye,” Robert said and walked further down the crypt to the grave of Ned´s
sister.
“But not Joffrey,” Robert said and Ned was puzzled. Did Robert mean to marry
Arya to Tommen?
Robert stopped again and Ned looked at his old friend questioning.
“Joffrey isn’t my heir anymore,” Robert started. “Jon Arryn came to me a few
weeks prior to his death. He talked to me like back in the days when he was
still our foster-father in the Eyrie. He spoke harsh truths. Truths I needed to
hear. I was too blind all these years to realize how unfit Cersei´s son is to
rule after me.”
Robert sighed again and scratched his beard.
“Apparently Jon and Stannis have been tracking down children of mine and the
one with the best potential of becoming a good ruler was named heir by me.
Cersei was furious when she heard about it, but she will have to deal with it.
The black-haired boy who is with me is my heir. Gendry is his name. Jon found
him with a blacksmith in King's Landing. I don’t remember which wench was his
mother, but Jon saw potential in him. He and Stannis wanted to educate him, but
only a few weeks later Jon died unfortunately. Stannis will continue his
education when we return to King's Landing.”
“And what about Joffrey and the other children you have with Cersei?” Ned
asked.
“They are still in the line of succession, just after Gendry. Maybe Joffrey
will learn by the way Gendry behaves. I want Gendry married to your younger
daughter. They remind me so much on me and Lyanna. I want this match Ned. It
will be good for both our houses.”
“Fair enough, but Arya won’t be a woman grown for the next couple of years I am
afraid. And I still have to find a husband for Sansa. She is the elder and
should marry first,” Ned argued.
“It’s not necessary that they marry soon. Just a formal betrothal will do for
the time and you can take your elder daughter with you south. I am sure you can
find some husband for your pretty daughter in the South. And when the time
comes my son will marry your daughter in the Sept of Baelor.”
Ned could hardly argue against Robert’s logic and Sansa would love it in the
South. And it would give Arya the chance to develop the behavior of a lady and
future queen.
They had reached the tomb of Lyanna and Ned still felt a sting in his heart at
seeing the face of his sister carved in stone.
Robert placed a feather in her outstretched hand.
“Did you have to bury her in a place like this? She should be on a hill
somewhere with the sun and the clouds above her,” Robert said, his voice choked
with emotions.
“She was my sister. This is where she belongs.”
“She belonged with me.”
You would have broken her heart, Ned thought. She saw right through you, that’s
why she did what she did.
Robert touched Lyanna’s face.
“In my dreams, I kill him every night.”
I am sure you do, Ned thought and remembered the day at the Trident when Robert
had slain the last dragon.
“It’s done, Your Grace. The Targaryens are gone.”
“Not all of them.”
It was known that Viserys and Daenerys had escaped to Essos after the war and
Ned hoped that they would never have to face Robert’s wrath.
The feast would soon begin and Robert started to move back to the stairway that
lead back to the entrance.
Ned gave the statue of his sister one last glance, silently repeating the
promise he had given Lyanna on her bed of blood, before he turned and followed
Robert back outside.
***** Sandor *****
Sandor sat a table farther away from the high table, where Lord and Lady Stark
sat with the King and the Queen. The table for the children had been placed in
front of it.
Sandor was surrounded by celebrating knights and highborn alike. Lord Stark had
wandered off from the high table, after Robert had started to drink within the
crowd of celebrating people.
Sandor glanced over to King Robert who had just pulled one of the serving
wenches onto his lap.
He didn’t seem to mind being watched by his wife and the wife of his best
friend.
Sandor was familiar to the look of disgust on Cersei Lannister’s face while she
watched her husband humiliate her openly.
When he had still been Joffrey’s dog he had seen that look often.
He took a sip of his heavy northern ale, looking over to the children at their
table.
Gendry sat on one head end of the table, while Joffrey sat on the other. The
Stark children, the Greyjoy boy and Tommen and Myrcella sat on the long ends of
the table.
Sandor still couldn’t really believe how his life had changed the last few
months.
It had been a surprise for the court when Robert Baratheon suddenly had
announced that children by Cersei Lannister would be behind the bastard he
legitimized in the line of succession.
Cersei had been furious and threatened Robert with her father, but the King's
brother had quickly shut that down.
Joffrey though took it hard. He had always believed he would be king someday
and so his cruel games had become worse over the years Sandor had to watch over
him. As crown prince, he thought himself untouchable and so it wasn’t unusual
the last few years that dead cats appeared all over the keep.
Sandor had turned a blind eye to the boy’s cruelties. His duty was to keep that
little shit alive, not to educate him. After all his grandfather was the most
powerful men in the seven kingdoms. And he would be furious if something
happened to the little shit.
So, when the former hand Jon Arryn had approached him the same day to ask him
if he would overtake the duty of becoming the new crown prince’s shield. Sandor
had no idea if he would just serve another cruel boy that was high on the power
that awaited him, but everything was better than this blond little shit, so he
agreed.
And the coin was the same, without having to tolerate all the shit that blond
prick left behind everywhere he went.
Gendry couldn’t be more different from Joffrey. He wasn’t used to all the
wealth and so Sandor quickly found a connection to him. Unlike Joffrey he was
down to earth and knew what hard work was from his lifetime in the forge.
Gendry also didn’t show the slightest amount of cruelty. Unlike Joffrey he
didn’t torment his cousin Shireen for her greyscale marks and while Sandor
hadn’t told him anything about his burns he of course had probably an idea how
he had got them. He had been a smith after all.
Gendry had just started to slowly adapt to his new life at court, when Jon
Arryn had suddenly died. Sandor thought it strange that a man like Lord Arryn
died within a few days, after being healthy despite his age.
When King Robert had announced afterwards he would travel North to Winterfell,
while Stannis would be head of the small council, he had for the first time in
years remembered the day of the celebration, after the Greyjoy Rebellion had
been crushed.
He remembered the little auburn-haired girl he had helped to find her parents.
Sandor was curious to see what had become of her.
The travel north itself had been pretty uneventful. The King was invited by
every Lord on every castle they passed by and Robert didn’t miss the chance to
fuck every wench, highborn or not that crossed his way.
It was interesting to see that Gendry wasn’t too fond of his father’s behavior,
after all he was the product of one of Roberts countless affairs.
Cersei refused to speak with Robert the whole journey to Winterfell, together
with Joffrey. She spent most of her time with her twin brother and nobody
seemed to mind that Joffrey wasn’t the crown prince anymore.
Gendry had tried several times to get a connection to his new half-brother, but
Joffrey still believed he was the legitimate heir to the Iron Throne and so
Joffrey only showed disdain for Gendry.
Sandor also felt that Joffrey saw it as a betrayal, that his personal dog had
turned on him.
Sandor didn’t care. Even a dog can only be beaten for so long before he decided
to turn on his master.
The travel had been longer than Sandor had expected. Now he understood how
large the North really was, but the first glance he had gotten on Lord Stark's
daughter had made up for it.
She wasn’t the little girl anymore that had shyly tugged on his tunic about a
decade ago. She was a young lady now at the cusps of womanhood.
She had indeed grown into the beauty he had expected and he even thought that
she might even become more beautiful.
Sandor had felt ashamed thinking about her in the way he thought about her.
After all he wasn’t like Meryn Trant. It was well-known that he wanted his
whores way too young. And Sandor wasn’t his brother, who raped everything that
he could get his hands on.
The little bird didn’t remember him he had realized earlier in the courtyard.
Of course, she hadn’t remembered him, you stupid dog. She was three or four at
the time. It’s a miracle she hasn’t a trauma by your face, he thought, while he
watched her go up to the high table.
She had obviously been called upon by the Queen. The little bird must be
excited to meet the Queen. Cersei probably gave her honey sweet words, hiding
her disdain for this place and the people who lived here.
Sandor filled his horn again. Sansa was radiating with joy when she sat down at
the table again and immediately started to titter with the brown-haired girl
next to her, after giving Joffrey a short glance.
Joffrey had obviously decided to play the gallant prince tonight.
That is the worse, Sandor thought. Joffrey could actually be charming if he
wanted to and Lord Stark's daughter was already blindly falling for him.
Not long-ago Sandor wouldn’t have given a damn, but the time he had spent with
Gendry the last few months had changed him in some ways. Maybe the fact that he
hadn’t to oversee any cruelties by his new charge had calmed him.
The Hound is tamed, he thought amused while taking a deep gulp of his ale.
“Arya!” he heard the little bird suddenly yelp and he had to laugh when he saw
that the younger Stark daughter had shot some food onto Sansa with a spoon.
Lord Stark’s son stood up and carried the young Stark girl away much to her
complain, while the septa and the little bird's friend tried to calm her down,
while cleaning the mess off her face and dress. The Starks had obviously kept
the same septa, that had lost the little bird all these years ago in the
capital, Sandor noticed much to his amusement.
The feast continued for hours and ale ran freely. Even after dozens of horns of
ale Sandor wasn’t as drunk as most of the people around him.
He was used to blood-red sour dornish wine and so the northern ale was like
water to him.
The royal family and the Starks had already left the feast a while ago with the
children, after Robert had drunkenly declared that he wanted to hunt in the
morning.
Sandor wasn’t too excited about it because it meant he had to participate,
since Robert always wanted Gendry at his side to learn how to hunt properly.
That was only the thing Sandor missed from his time of being Joffrey’s shield.
Robert had never wanted Joffrey to come with him.
Sandor sighed and took the last gulp of his ale before he left the great hall
to find his bed. Maybe he would even find a kitchen wench or servant girl who
thought him a southern knight to warm his bed for the night.
                                      ***
The next morning Sandor sat on a bench in the courtyard sharpening his dagger.
The Imp sat next to him. He obviously had a worse hangover.
Everybody knew how fond of wine the Imp was and Sandor couldn’t deny that the
Imp could drink an impressive amount of wine compared to most other men in
Westeros.
The courtyard was crowded with people, making last preparations for the hunt.
Lord Stark eldest son would participate alongside a man from the Night's Watch,
who was the brother of Lord Stark.
“Rough night, Imp?”
Lord Tyrion frowned.
“If I get through this without squirting from one end or the other, it will be
a miracle.”
“I didn’t pick you for a hunter.”
“The greatest in the land. My spear never misses,” the Imp gave back.
But only because of the gold of your father, Sandor thought.
“It’s not hunting if you pay for it.”
The Imp didn’t give another answer as Sandor left him to join Gendry who had
just arrived with his father.
Lord Stark looked tired as he arrived on his horse.
“Are you as good with a spear as you used to be?” Robert asked in a jesting
tone.
“No, but I’m still better than you,” Lord Stark answered.
“I know what I’m putting you through. Thank you for saying yes. I only ask you
because I need you. You’re a loyal friend. You hear me? A loyal friend. The
last one I’ve got.”
“I hope I’ll serve you well.”
“You will. And I’ll make sure you don’t look so fucking grim all the time. Come
on, boys, let’s go kill some boar!”
They left Winterfell and Sandor stayed close to Gendry who rode behind King
Robert and Lord Stark.
As they reached the rum of the forest the drivers left the group with the
hounds to startle the game. Lord Tyrion stayed with Robb Stark and his uncle,
while Sandor stayed with his charge.
“Gendry, come here boy,” Robert said and Gendry rode closer to the King.
“Yes, your majesty?” Gendry asked. He still wasn’t used to be the actual son of
the King.
“How often have I to tell you that you can call me father,” Robert said
laughing. “Anyway, you are going to marry my friend’s daughter.”
Sandor strangely felt a pang of sadness hearing these words.
“I understand father,” Gendry said. “Which…which one is to become my wife?”
“The younger one. What was her name again, Ned?”
“Arya.”
“Aye, Arya. She reminds me on young Lyanna. It’s just a betrothal for now,
since it will be still at least a few years until she will be a woman fit to
wed,” Robert explained.
Gendry turned to Lord Stark.
“It will be an honor for me to get your daughter's hand in marriage, Lord
Stark.”
“I hope you will make her happy when the time comes. She can be, let’s say
difficult to handle at times.”
“I swear I will be good to her, Lord Stark.”
Lord Stark nodded and Robert clapped him on the shoulder.
“Told you he is a good lad, Ned.”
Sandor assumed that Lord Stark feared his daughter would end just like Cersei
Lannister. Being shamed and humiliated in public on daily basis should Gendry
really turn out as Robert son in character.
                                      ***
They returned late that day to Winterfell. The hunt had been successful and the
servants carried six boards King Robert had taken down with his spear.
As soon as they rode through the gates Sandor felt that something was wrong.
Nobody cheered or talked besides the absolute necessary amount.
Lord Stark hadn’t yet dismounted his horse, when his wife was already running
to him crying talking wildly about an accident.
It felt Strange to see the whole castle staff mourn and pray with the Stark
family for their injured son.
It was impressive to see this kind of loyalty firsthand and Sandor hoped that
this tragedy wasn’t the start of something worse.
***** Sansa *****
It wasn’t fair, Sansa thought sad and annoyed all the same, while she walked
with Lady on a leash, near the inn, where King Robert had decided to make camp
for a few days, so he could go hunting with the nearby Lords for a few days.
Sansa had always tried to follow the lead of her Lady Mother and become a great
lady of a great house. She had been a lady at three. Everybody said so.
A lady worthy of becoming a queen someday.
But now her little sister would become the next Queen of Westeros someday.
At first Sansa had thought it a bad jape, by her father, when he had explained
King Robert’s intention to bind their houses by marriage.
Arya had been furious when her father had told her that she was to marry King
Robert’s legitimized bastard son. Arya hadn’t spoken to the crown prince during
the whole journey south so far.
The behavior of a true Queen, Sansa thought bitterly.
Arya didn’t even try to behave like a future Queen and that was what bugged
Sansa most.
Arya still didn’t care if her dress got dirty or if her hair was a mess. The
worst was that it didn’t seem to bother their father or septa Mordane.
When Arya had returned covered in mud from one of her expeditions as they had
traveled through the Neck with a bunch of flowers, her father hadn’t scolded
her, no quite the opposite. He had been happy and had laughed while thanking
her.
And Septa Mordane seemed to had given up on making a proper lady out of Arya.
Meanwhile, Sansa was still scolded for every misbehavior.
“A noble lady does not feed dogs at her table,” septa Mordane had scolded her
this morning when Sansa had given Lady some pieces of bacon under the table.
Sansa couldn’t understand why Septa Mordane had scolded her for that. Lady was
the most behaved direwolf of the litter her father and brothers had brought
home.
Sansa had chosen her blue dress this morning. Sansa had made it herself a few
months ago, without any help of her mother.
The air was still cold and humid, even though the sun already stood high in the
sky.
The camp alongside the Kingsroad was filled with servants and soldiers. She
could see men wearing the crowned stag of King Robert and Lannisters with the
roaring lion in their red armors. Between them were the guards her father had
taken south with them.
The Winterfell men all bowed their head in respect while she walked by. After
all most of them knew her since the day she had been born and were most loyal
to her family.
Septa Mordane had given Sansa the impossible task to tell her sister to dress
nicely, when they would continue their journey.
Queen Cersei had invited her and Arya to travel in the royal wheelhouse for a
day.
Sansa was already excited, even though she feared Arya would ruin the day with
her behaving. Anyway, Sansa had so many questions for the Queen and princess
Myrcella seemed to be a nice girl.
The evening her father had announced Arya’s betrothal her mother had told her
she shouldn’t be too sad about not being betrothed to the crown prince. Her
mother had told her, that her father would probably find a good match for her
in the south.
A handsome son of a lord or a brave knight, just like in the songs, she
thought.
And there was still Joffrey, Sansa mused to herself. If she couldn’t be Queen
she might still could marry in the royal family. If King Robert wanted to bind
their houses together, why not with two marriages?
The thought being married to her brave blond prince excited her.
Sansa saw some of the queen’s maids braiding her hair in the southern style the
Queen wore daily. They side eyed Sansa before they continued to braid their
hair.
Maybe Sansa could ask them to teach her, she thought just before she ran into a
man.
She looked up and only saw the grim cold eyes of an elderly man.
She stepped backward and bumped into someone.
Strong hands grasped her by the shoulders, and for a moment Sansa thought it
was her father, but when she turned, it was the burned face of Sandor Clegane,
the crown prince´s shield, looking down at her.
“Do I frighten you so much, girl? The last time we met you were not scared. Or
is it him there making you shake? He frightens me too. Look at that face,” he
rasped and Sansa turned to the man she had run into the first place.
“I am sorry if I offended you, Ser,” Sansa said like the well-behaved lady she
was.
The man didn’t say anything, but simply walked on giving Clegane a hateful
glance.
“Why won’t he speak to me?” Sansa asked confused.
“He hasn’t been very talkative the last twenty years, since the mad King had
his tongue ripped out with hot pincers.”
“He speaks damn well with his sword though. Ser Ilyn Payne, the King's justice.
The royal executioner.”
Sansa turned and saw prince Joffrey walk up.
He looks so handsome and brave, she thought and smiled.
“What is it, sweet lady? Does the hound frighten you?” The prince asked while
stroking with his thumb over her cheek.
“Away with you, dog. You're scaring my lady. Find the bastard you are paid to
protect,” Joffrey said and Clegane growled something under his breath before he
left.
“I don't like to see you upset. The sun is finally shining. Come walk with me,”
the prince continued and Sansa heart nearly burst from her chest.
“Stay Lady,” she said and her beloved wolf stayed exactly where she wanted.
Joffrey offered his arm and they started their walk.
                                      ***
It was a nice day and Sansa could hear the Trident rush not too far away.
The land south of the Neck was so beautiful, compared to the endless dark
forests and plains of the North.
“My prince, why did you call the shield of your half-brother a dog earlier?”
Sansa asked kindly.
“Never call him my brother again! He is just the offspring from a tavern wench
my father fucked while he was drunk, that stole my claim,” Joffrey said
angrily. “And Clegane is a dog! Nothing more. He repaid the kindness my
mother’s family showed him with treachery, by agreeing to become the bastard’s
sworn shield. But unlike the future usurper I don’t need anyone to protect me,”
he said and touched the handle of his sword.
Sansa could scold herself. She had ruined the walk by bringing up the topic of
him not being the heir to the Iron Throne anymore.
She stayed silent and didn’t say anything further.
“But the day is too beautiful to talk about such things,” Joffrey said and
unplugged his wineskin.
He offered the skin to her. Sansa hesitated for a tiny moment, before she took
the skin taking a gulp.
During feasts she was allowed to drink one cup of watered down wine, so the
wine quickly got into her head. The warmth of the sun didn’t help either.
Joffrey offered the skin again, after drinking himself.
“I probably shouldn't have more. Father only lets us have one cup at feasts.”
“My lady can drink as much as she wants,” Joffrey said and they heard yelling
nearby. Sansa looked concerned at the prince.
“Don't worry... You're safe with me,” he said and they walked in the direction
the sound was coming from.
Sansa simply followed Joffrey until they reached the edge of the Trident where
Arya was using a stick to fight with the butcher’s boy.
“Arya!” Sansa yelped at that unladylike behavior of her sister. The future
Queen shouldn’t play alone with a dirty butcher boy.
Her sister didn’t look happy to see her.
“What are you doing here? Go away!” Arya said fuming.
“And who are you boy?” Joffrey asked challenging.
“Mycah, my lord,” the boy said.
“He is the butcher’s boy,” Sansa said.
“He is my friend,” her sister gave back.
“A butcher's boy who wants to be a Knight, eh? Pick up your sword, butcher's
boy. Let's see how good you are.”
“She asked me to, my Lord. She asked me to,” the boy quickly explained.
Joffrey pulled his sword.
“I'm your prince, not your lord, and I said pick up your sword.”
“It's not a sword, my prince. It's only a stick.”
“And you're not a Knight. Only a butcher's boy. That was the future Queen you
were hitting; do you know that?” Joffrey said pointing with the tip of his
sword towards the boy.
Sansa felt fear rise in her.
“Stop it!” Arya yelled.
Sansa just wanted to tell Arya she should stay out of it, when they heard
someone approach.
“What is going on here?” Gendry asked accompanied by Clegane.
“I am teaching this boy a lesson. And if you would know how to be a worthy
prince, you wouldn’t allow that boy to beat your future Queen,” Joffrey said.
“Let it go Joffrey. They were just playing,” Gendry said.
“Don’t tell me what to do bastard,” Joffrey said and lifted his sword to the
butcher’s boy left cheek.
“I won’t hurt him…much.”
“Joffrey…” Gendry warned him, but before anyone could react Arya had already
beaten Joffrey with her stick on his back.
“You filthy little bitch,” Joffrey spat and swung his sword after Arya, who
could barely move out of the blades way.
“No no, stop it, stop it, both of you. You're spoiling it. You're spoiling
everything!” Sansa yelped. It had been such a nice day and suddenly it had
turned sour.
“Joffrey, stop it!” Gendry demanded.
“I'll gut you, you little cunt!” Joffrey yelled.
Arya stumbled and landed on her back and Joffrey held the tip of his sword
towards her.
Sansa just noticed a swift movement from the side and Nymeria rushed in to help
Arya.
The wolf of Sansa's sister jumped at Joffrey burying her teeth into his arm,
making him drop the blade.
“Arya!” Sansa screamed and Arya teared Nymeria off the prince.
“Nymeria!” Arya said, before picking up Joffrey’s sword.
“Please don’t,” Joffrey pleaded and Arya threw the sword into the river, before
storming off with Nymeria in tow.
Joffrey was holding his bleeding arm and Sansa looked at Gendry and Clegane to
get any advice what she should do.
“Now we’re in a real mess,” Gendry said walking over to where Joffrey lay on
the ground, while Sansa saw that Clegane smirked at prince Joffrey’s situation.
Sansa knelt down next to Joffrey.
“My prince, my poor prince, look what they did to you,” Sansa stammered.
“Don’t touch me!” the prince spat at her and Sansa was taken aback by his
reaction.
Sansa looked at prince Gendry and felt her eyes water. Gendry simply rolled his
eyes at his half-brother’s reaction.
“Clegane, would you please take Lady Sansa back to the camp and tell them we
need a maester. I´ll follow with my brother.”
“Aye, my prince,” Clegane rasped and gently held her by the arm, leading her
back to the camp.
                                      ***
Not soon after they had returned to the camp turmoil started.
Sansa sat in the room of the inn they stayed in and looked out of the window.
She saw her father for a brief moment ordering his men to look for Arya, who
hadn’t returned hours after the incident.
Septa Mordane had asked her what had happened, but she hadn’t been able to give
proper answer, so Clegane had told her septa that there had been a little
incident and prince Joffrey was hurt, but not too serious.
Sansa still was tipsy from the wine and decided to lie down on the bed for a
while.
The pictures of the incident circled in her mind.
Joffrey could have killed Arya, Sansa realized. If Arya hadn’t been that swift
on her feet, she could be dead.
Sansa felt tears well in her eyes. Even though she and Arya had their
differences and she had mocked her sister more than once, she didn’t wish her
dead or injured.
She had to think on Joffrey. Maybe his reaction was caused by the amount of
wine he had drunk. After all he had been kind to her.
Sansa closed her eyes and she must have fallen asleep, since she woke up to
somebody knocked on her door.
She got up and looked out of the window. It was already dark.
I must have slept for hours.
Sansa opened the door and one of Queen Cersei’s maids awaited her.
“The King and Queen demand your presence,” she said and Sansa nodded grabbing
her cloak.
They walked down the stairs to the main room of the inn, where Cersei stood
with Joffrey, next to King Robert.
Sansa’s father stood with Arya in front of the King. Arya had obviously cried
since her eyes were wet. Lannister and Stark men filled the hall.
“…seven hells! What am I to make of this? Where's your other daughter, Ned?”
Sansa heard King Robert ask.
“In bed, asleep.”
“She is not. Sansa, come here, darling,” The Queen said and everybody turned to
her.
Sansa slowly walked over, shyly looking back and forth between the prince and
her father.
King Robert pointed towards the ground in front of him.
“Now, child... Tell me what happened. Tell it all and tell it true. It's a
great crime to lie to a King.”
She glanced over to her father and then to Joffrey. Both looked at her
expectantly.
Before she looked back at the King her eyes found Clegane who stood a bit
behind the King with prince Gendry.
Clegane looked at her urgently, like he wanted her to tell the truth.
But what could she tell the King? If she told him Joffrey tried to kill her
sister, all chances of marriage would turn to ash and if she told him that Arya
attacked the prince, Arya would get a harsh punishment. Sansa assumed the
punishment for attacking a member of the royal family was severe.
“Arya and the boy were just playing. I don't remember who started the fight.
Everything happened so fast. I didn't see,” Sansa said hesitantly.
“Liar! Liar, liar, liar!” Her sister yelled and forcefully pulled on her hair
making her scream.
“Stop it! That's enough of that,” her father said, but Arya continued.
“Liar, liar, liar!” she continued to yell, while Sansa desperately tried to get
out of her sister’s reach.
“Stop! Arya!” their father said loudly and Arya finally let go of her hair.
“She's as wild as that animal of hers. I want her punished,” Cersei demanded
and Sansa saw the cruel smirk on Joffrey’s lips.
“What would you have me do, whip her through the streets? Damn it, children
fight. It's over,” Robert said.
“Father,” Gendry spoke up behind the King. “I saw what happened.”
“Then tell son.”
“My betrothed was just playing with the butcher’s boy and Joffrey thought they
were fighting so he tried to intervene. When he pulled his sword on Lord
Stark's daughter her wolf bit him and disarmed him,” Gendry explained and Sansa
saw that Arya was surprised that her betrothed helped her.
“Joffrey will bear these scars for the rest of his life,” Cersei threw in.
King Robert looked at Joffrey with disgust.
“You let that little girl disarm you?” Robert asked and Joffrey looked ashamed.
“And you ask why I made Gendry my heir,” he added turning to Cersei.
Cersei looked furious.
“See to it that your daughter is disciplined. I'll do the same with my son,”
Robert told their father.
“Gladly, your Grace.”
“And what of the direwolf? What of the beast that savaged your son?” Cersei
demanded furious.
Robert sighed.
“I forgot the damn wolf,” he said and turned to a soldier.
“We haven’t found the wolf, your grace.”
“So be it,” Robert said tired.
“They have another wolf,” Cersei said.
“You can’t mean it,” Sansa's father said and Sansa realized they were talking
about Lady.
“He doesn't mean Lady, does he? No no, not Lady! Lady didn't bite anyone! She's
good!” Sansa yelped.
“Lady wasn't there! You leave her alone!” Arya yelled.
“Father, spare the wolf,” Gendry said after Clegane had whispered something in
his ear. “Spare the wolf as my thank that Lord Stark agreed to offer his
daughter's hand to me.”
Sansas eyes were filled with tears.
King Robert looked at Gendry before turning to Sansa's father.
“So be it. The wolf will live. But a direwolf is no pet. Get her a dog. She'll
be happier for it.”
Robert left the room and left a furious Cersei behind, who quickly left the
room with Joffrey in tow.
The soldiers also left the room to finally get their well-deserved rest after a
long day.
“Thank you, prince Gendry,” their father said and Gendry only nodded before
leaving with Clegane.
“Jory get Sansa's wolf,” Sansa's father ordered and Jory left the building to
get her direwolf.
“It’s late and you two should already be asleep,” their father said and
gestured them upstairs to their rooms.
Jory had returned with Lady and Sansa's direwolf immediately occupied the bed
as soon as Sansa opened the door to her room.
“Good night Sansa. Sleep well,” her father said and kissed her forehead.
Sansa got into bed and Lady snuggled up to her. Sansa buried her nose in Lady’s
fur and was glad that her wolf hadn’t been taken from her.
She could hear her father’s voice through the wall in the next room, talking to
Arya. Maybe today had given her a lesson that her actions could cause reactions
that wouldn’t be in her control.
Sleep came slowly and Sansa couldn’t forget that Joffrey hadn’t spoken up to
safe her wolf. He simply stood there and smirked as if he wanted to see her
hurt.
Maybe Joffrey isn’t the shining prince he pretends to be, Sansa thought just
before Lady’s steady breathing made her fall asleep.
***** Sansa *****
It was the first day of her father’s tourney and Sansa's heart nearly burst
from her chest in excitement, as she walked towards the seats her father had
organized for them, alongside Arya, Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole.
Sansa had always dreamed of seeing a tourney. She had always heard about them
in songs and stories, but in the North nobody had held one as long as she
lived.
After the incident on the Trident her father had decided to ride ahead with his
household.
In the morning Arya had apologized to Sansa and for the first time it had
sounded actual genuine. She obviously had realized that she nearly got Sansa's
direwolf killed if her betrothed hadn’t intervened.
The fact that she had to scare away her own wolf to prevent Nymeria being
punished for her own behavior rested hard on Arya, but she and Sansa finally
had started behave sisterly over the number of evenings they had spent with
Lady in Sansa’s tent.
Arya had even started to try spending time with Gendry. Sansa wasn’t too sure
what caused her sister's sudden change in behavior. She even started to take
dancing lessons.
She needs a lot of lessons, Sansa thought amused, since Arya always came back
with new scratches after her lessons in the evening.
Sansa wasn’t sure how she should continue with Joffrey.
Since they had arrived in the capital about a month ago, he hadn’t spoken to
her at all.
Sansa had dressed in her prettiest dress for today. Maybe Joffrey would see her
and finally forget what had happened at the Trident.
The court itself was just like Sansa had imagined it. All the ladies wearing
beautiful silk dresses, while knights tried to win their favor. She and Jeyne
were in awe most of the time they walked in the Red Keep. It was just like in
the songs.
Her father though didn’t seem to enjoy King's Landing as much as Sansa and Arya
did. He always came back late in the evenings and during lunch he always looked
tense.
Septa Mordane often asked him if there had been trouble on the small council,
but their father always brushed Mordane´s concerns aside, by telling her that
ruling the Kingdom was tiresome, even if the King's brother Stannis supported
him.
Stannis Baratheon’s daughter Shireen was a kind girl, just like Myrcella and
Sansa had quickly befriended her.
Usually Shireen would have her seat of honor next to the king’s children on the
dais of the nobility, but her mother had forbidden that she would see all this
violence. And so only Joffrey, with his two siblings and Gendry sat on the
chairs of the royal family. King Robert sat with Cersei in the center.
Unlike Jeyne, Sansa had no problem looking at Shireen and her Greyscale marks.
They were just part of her. Even Arya liked her. Not because Shireen wanted to
be a lady like Sansa, but because of her interest in dragons and other stuff
Arya shared with her.
Her father wasn’t with them. He had still work to do, but he had promised that
he would visit the tourney tomorrow. Septa Mordane was with her and Arya to
chaperone them and Jeyne Poole.
Sansa turned around to where Joffrey sat. Their looks crossed for a moment and
Sansa smiled, but Joffrey just looked annoyed away.
“Lover's quarrel?” Sansa suddenly was asked and she turned around.
“I'm sorry. Do I know you?” Sansa asked.
“Sweet child, this is Lord Petyr Baelish, of the king’s small council.” Septa
Mordane explained.
“Your mother was my queen of beauty once,” Lord Baelish explained. “You have
her hair.”
“Why do they call you Littlefinger?” Arya asked with her usual unladylike
manner.
“Arya!” Sansa yelped.
“Don't be rude!” Mordane scolded her.
“No, it's quite all right. When I was a child I was very small and I come from
a little spit of land called The Fingers, so you see, it's an exceedingly
clever nickname,” Lord Baelish explained without being offended by Arya’s
rudeness, before he left quite abruptly.
“I've been sitting here for days! Start the damn joust before I piss myself!”
Robert declared and Sansa could already hear that he was drunken.
Cersei left the chair next to him, but Robert didn’t seem to mind.
It's better than in the songs, Sansa thought as she watched all the knights in
their painted armors got ready near the jousting field.
Sansa could identify many of the riders on the field. Ser Jaime in his golden
armor. Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain That Rides, the brother of the crown
prince’s shield. Lord Yohn Royce, who had been a guest in Winterfell not two
years ago and many more Sansa didn’t know.
The tourney began and the first man landed in the dust, accompanied by the
cheering of the smallfolk and highborn alike.
Jory, Alyn, and Harwin rode for Winterfell and the North.
“Jory looks a beggar among these others,” Septa Mordane sniffed when he
appeared in his simple northern armor, without any unnecessary decorations.
Sansa was inclined to agree, but Sandor Clegane was also only wearing a simple
armor too, so she didn’t say anything.
The men from Winterfell did good in the first round but quickly were unhorsed
in the second.
A dozen times Jeyne and Sansa cried out in unison as riders crashed together,
lances exploding into splinters while the commons screamed for their favorites.
Jeyne covered her eyes whenever a man fell, like a frightened little girl, but
Sansa was made of sterner stuff. A great lady knew how to behave at
tournaments. Even Septa Mordane noted her composure and nodded in approval.
Even Arya didn’t cover her eyes, but watched the whole time, cheering and
yelling every time a knight rolled in the dust in his dented armor.
The Clegane brothers though seemed to be unbeatable. They unhorsed man after
man with ease and continued towards the finals on the next day.
The scariest moment of the day was during the joust of the Mountain and Ser
Hugh of the Vale.
The Mountain’s lance hit Ser Hugh’s gorget with such a force it drove a large
splinter of the lance into the knight’s throat.
The knight rolled in the dust and came to rest just a few feet away from where
Sansa sat, while blood flowed out in slow pulses, each weaker than the one
before.
Jeyne Poole wept so hysterically that Septa Mordane finally took her off to
regain her composure, but Sansa sat with her hands folded in her lap, watching
with a strange fascination next to her sister. They had never seen a man die
before. Father took Robb, Jon and Theon with him when he had to bring the
King's justice to some deserter or criminal. Even Bran had accompanied him the
last time, but he had never taken any of the girls with him, nor had he spoken
about the deed to them.
After they carried off the body, a boy with a spade ran onto the field and
shoveled dirt over the spot where he had fallen, to cover up the blood. Then
the jousts continued.
The joust lasted the whole day until the moon was well up and the crowd was
tired. The final three jousts would be held the next day after the archery
competition and the melee.
While the smallfolk began their walk home, talking of the day’s jousts and the
matches to come on the morrow, the court moved to the riverside to begin the
feast. Six monstrous huge aurochs had been roasting for hours, turning slowly
on wooden spits while kitchen boys basted them with butter and herbs until the
meat crackled and spit. Tables and benches had been raised outside the
pavilions, piled high with sweet grass and strawberries and fresh-baked bread.
Sansa, Arya and Septa Mordane, who had returned after accompanying Jeyne back
to the Red Keep, were given places of high honor, to the left of the raised
dais where the king himself sat beside his queen.
She felt someone touch her shoulder and when she turned she saw Joffrey’s who
took his place next to Sansa.
Joffrey smiled and kissed her hand, handsome and gallant like in the songs.
Arya rolled her eyes, but when Gendry took his place next to Arya and Sansa's
sister didn’t look like she was unhappy.
The servants kept the cups filled all night and Sansa was drunk on the magic of
the night.
It was just like in the songs.
At some point Arya left, after Septa Mordane mentioned that her father wouldn’t
want her to stay up that late and prince Gendry offered to accompany her back
to the keep.
King Robert became louder with each course and more drunk. Sansa could
sometimes hear his roaring laughing or roaring a command over the music.
Joffrey’s mood suddenly changed after King Robert and the Queen had some
argument at the royal table. Sansa couldn’t hear what it was about but Cersei
suddenly stormed away with her twin brother in tow.
“It grows late,” Joffrey said. “Do you need an escort to the castle?” he asked
slightly annoyed.
“No,” Sansa said and looked over to Septa Mordane and was startled to find her
with her head on the table, snoring soft and ladylike snores. Her wine cup next
to her.
“I mean to say … yes,” Sansa started and turned around only to see that Joffrey
was already gone.
Sansa looked around but couldn’t spot him anymore. Most people had already left
and only a few servants were still around to start cleaning up.
Sansa swallowed. She would have to make it back alone to the Red Keep. She
shook Septa Mordane´s shoulder again, hoping to wake her up, but she wasn’t
successful.
You can do it. It’s not that far, she thought as she looked over to the lights
of the Keep high over the city.
“Wait girl,” she suddenly heard a rough voice rasp next to her and Sandor
Clegane appeared out of the darkness.
He had exchanged his armor for a red woolen tunic with a leather dog’s head
sewn on the front. The light of the torches made his burned face shine a red.
“Your sister's betrothed ordered me to make sure you return safely to the
Keep,” he rasped and Sansa looked surprised. “Come, you’re not the only one
needs sleep. I’ve drunk much, and I may need to kill my brother tomorrow.”
Sansa again tried to wake up Mordane again, as Clegane gently grabbed her arm.
“I see your Septa is still as useless as the last time,” he snorted.
Sansa followed close beside him and was thinking about his words. They walked
past the pavilions, each with its banner. The silence was weighing heavier with
every step on the uneven ground.
Sansa wasn’t afraid of him, but his scars looked horrible in the light of the
torch. A true lady would not notice his face Sansa knew.
“Ser…Ser Sandor…you mentioned we met before,” Sansa broke the silence. He had
mentioned it on the Kingsroad and today.
“Spare me your Sers, I am no knight and I spit on their vows, but yes we met
before. I didn’t expect you to remember, you were merely a toddler, during the
celebration after the Greyjoy Rebellion.”
“I don’t remember much when I traveled for the celebration with my mother,”
Sansa said. “I only remember that I got lost at some point and some knight
helped me find my parents. He was a true knight,” Sansa mused. She didn’t
exactly remember the man, but he had been the one that had defined how a knight
should behave to her. Every knight in all the songs and stories she loved had
been compared to that unknown Ser.
“I have been this ´Ser´, and even then, I told you I wasn’t a ser girl,” he
said and she could smell the wine in his breath.
“But you were so chivalrous, just like the knights in the songs and you rode
gallantly today,” Sansa said, but Clegane only snorted.
“Gallantly? Just like my brother? He is a knight. Said all the pretty lies that
are included in the vows of a knight. Was he gallant?” he rasped.
“He was…,” Sansa stared. “Nobody could withstand him.”
“No one could withstand him,” the Hound rasped. “That’s truth enough. No one
could ever withstand Gregor. Just like that knight he murdered today, because
he had the chance. Look at me. Look at me!” Sandor Clegane put a huge hand
under her chin and forced her face up. He knelt in front of her, and moved the
torch closer to his face. “Take a good long stare. You know you want to. Take
your look.”
His fingers held her jaw as hard as an iron trap, but still gentle enough not
to hurt her. His eyes watched hers. Drunken and angered eyes. She had to look.
The scars looked horrible and Sansa felt tears well in her eyes. Clegane let go
of her chin and snuffed out the torch.
“Most of them, they think it was some battle. A siege, a burning tower, an
enemy with a torch. One fool asked if it was dragon's breath,” his laughed and
his voice was softer this time, but just as bitter. “When we first met you
suggested that I got them doing something brave, like saving a fair maiden.”
He laughed in the darkness.
“I’ll tell you what it was, girl,” he said and the smell of heavy wine hit her
face.
“I was younger than you, six, maybe seven. A woodcarver set up shop in the
village under my father’s keep, and to buy favor he sent us gifts. I don’t
remember what I got, but it was Gregor’s gift I wanted. A wooden knight, all
painted up, every joint pegged separate and fixed with strings, so you could
make him fight. Gregor is five years older than me, the toy was nothing to him,
he was already a squire and taller than most men. So I took his knight. There
was a brazier in the room. Gregor never said a word when he found me with his
toy, he just picked me up under his arm and shoved my face down in the burning
coals and held me there while I screamed and screamed. You saw how strong he
is. Even then, it took three grown men to drag him off me. My father told
everyone my bedding had caught fire, and our maester gave me ointments.
Ointments! Gregor got his ointments too. Four years later, they anointed him
with the seven oils and he recited his knightly vows and Rhaegar Targaryen
tapped him on the shoulder and said, ‘Arise, Ser Gregor.’ And not a year later
Gregor killed Rhaegar's wife and children.”
The rasping voice trailed off. He squatted silently before her, a huge black
shape hidden in the night, hidden from her eyes. Sansa could hear his ragged
breathing. She was sad for him, she realized and she felt silent tears run down
her face.
She had no idea why, but her hand found his massive shoulder.
“He was no true knight,” she whispered to him.
Clegane was silent for a moment.
“No,” he said and his voice held a strange kind of gentleness. “No, little
bird, he was no true knight.”
The rest of the way through the city they didn’t talk, until they reached the
corridor outside her bedchamber.
“Thank you,” Sansa said meekly.
Clegane grabbed her arm and leaned closer, as if he meant to kiss her. Sansa’s
heart strangely fluttered at the thought.
“The things I told you tonight,” he said and his voice was back to his usual
roughness. “If you ever tell Joffrey…your sister…your bloody useless drunkard
of septa…your father…anyone…”
“I won’t,” Sansa whispered. “I promise.”
Clegane looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t in the end.
“And just so you know. I still think you brave,” Sansa said and closed the door
to her room behind her.
***** Ned *****
Ned wasn’t interested in the tourney at all, but the small council had
convinced him that he had to show up at least on the last day. After all it was
tourney for his honor, if he liked it or not.
At least he knew that the work wouldn’t stop. Stannis wasn’t fond of tourneys
either and so he had told Ned he would continue the daily business of the
realm, if he managed to convince Robert not to partake in the melee.
Ned had spoken half the morning with Robert during the breakfast in his
pavilion near the river bank. He had luckily been able to convince Robert not
to partake.
After Jon Arryn's sudden death Robert's life was Ned's primary concern. Gendry
was a good lad, but he still had a long way to go to be ready to rule the seven
kingdoms.
Luckily Robert was too fat for his own armor, so Ned didn’t need to convince
Robert not to fight. Ned wasn’t sure if he would have been able to manage it.
Robert was as stubborn as a bull and if he wanted something he always got it.
The melee in the morning was a brutal affair. The forty competitors fought for
nearly an hour until Thoros of Myr defeated his last opponent with his flaming
sword.
Ned still remembered how Thoros had been the first to storm the wall of Pyke.
It had been the day Balon Greyjoy had bent the knee.
The archery competition was a dull affair. Nobody stood a chance against the
young archer Anguy from the Dornish Marches.
During the last few rounds of archery his daughter arrived accompanied by Jory.
Septa Mordane felt ill this morning, but Ned suspected that she just had a
hangover. Arya had told him that Mordane had been very fond of the wine
yesterday and his younger daughter had simply shrugged when he had asked how
Sansa then had returned to the Red Keep.
When Ned asked where Arya was, Sansa told him that she was with her dance
master.
It amused Ned that Sansa and Septa Mordane had no idea that Arya took fencing
lessons.
But Ned wasn’t so sure anymore that Sansa would be scandalized by it. He had no
real idea why, but Sansa and Arya were more sisterly to each other than they
had been in years, after the incident at the Trident. Maybe they both just
simply grew up.
Anguy was took the victory of the archery competition and was celebrated by the
crowed, while Ned watched his eldest daughter, who watched the spectacle.
She looked more like her mother with every day that passed. His daughter indeed
grew into the beauty everybody always said she would.
She must have felt him watching her and she turned to him, smiling.
“Everything in order, father?” she asked.
“Yes. You look beautiful today,” Ned said and a light blush reddened her
cheeks.
“Did you enjoy the tourney yesterday?”
“I did. It was just as beautiful as in the songs,” she said.
Sansa and her songs, Ned thought to himself. Sometimes he felt like Sansa saw
the whole world as a pretty place just like her songs and stories.
But Ned wouldn’t take that innocence from her. Soon enough she would be a woman
grown and the reality of this world would catch up to her.
Ned wasn’t sure if he was ready to see his little girl become a woman, it was
still like yesterday to him, when she plugged him flower in the meadows of
Winterfell.
Maybe Ned would never feel comfortable at the thought of his children becoming
adults in this cruel world.
Yet, the child he thought would have most trouble finding a match was now
betrothed to the crown prince and will become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms
someday.
Cat already had told him months ago he should finally make a match for Robb. He
was his firstborn after all and had the duty to continue the line of House
Stark.
Ned thought about his options. Some of his bannermen had daughters of a fitting
age. Alys Karstark maybe. The Lord of Karhold had already tried to make a match
between them years ago, when they still had been children, but now Alys must be
of a fitting age. But Ned wasn’t sure if Alys´ father would break up the
betrothal with Darym Hornwood, if he approached the Lord of Karhold with the
offer of a match with his heir.
And didn’t his old friend Howland have a daughter too? If he remembered
correctly she had been born shortly after Robb.
Lord Manderly´s eldest granddaughter might also be an option, same with several
daughters of Maege Mormont.
Ned was sure he would be able to make a match within the North for his
firstborn. It was far more difficult for Sansa though.
Catelyn had told Ned back in Winterfell that Sansa had thrown an eye on
Joffrey, after all he was still a prince and his wife had furthermore told him
that Sansa had been heartbroken that she wasn’t to be betrothed to the crown
prince even if she was the elder daughter.
Ned could see where Sansas wish to marry a prince and become queen came from,
but Ned wouldn’t try to make a match between her and Joffrey. He was too much
the son of his mother.
Septa Mordane had told him a few days ago, that many of the young men of the
court started to take an interest in his elder daughter.
Ned wasn’t surprised. Sansa became a greater beauty with every day that passed.
She already reminded him so much of Catelyn when they had married during the
rebellion.
Cat had suggested he should try to make a match in the south for Sansa. After
all his daughter was very fond of the southern culture with its knighthood and
the faith of the seven.
Your daughter seems to be the only Stark to enjoy the south, the Queen had told
him yesterday and Sansa indeed enjoyed the south as far as Ned knew.
She had talked happily the whole breakfast this morning in the Red Keep, how
exciting yesterday’s jousts had been and how dissolute the feast had been in
the evening.
Maybe she was destined to find a husband from the south and become a great
southern lady.
Yet, no family had approached Ned regarding a betrothal, but Ned valued his
options against each other.
He definitely wouldn’t betroth Sansa with Joffrey. Ned wouldn’t allow Cersei to
get more influence over Sansa if he could prevent it.
There were several options for a match between the Northern houses. The
Greatjon´s son was still unmarried, but Last Hearth really was a place fitting
to its name. Ned remembered how a moist eyed Sansa had listened to the songs of
the singer that had traveled to Winterfell a few years ago only to never return
after he had stayed for two moons.
Last Hearth’s halls would never hear the voice of a traveling singer. Only the
drunken roaring of the Northmen. But the Umbers were brave warriors and the
Greatjon was one of Ned's most loyal bannerman.
As were the Karstarks and old Rickard had three unmarried sons, they were all
in their twenties already, but they would make a good match. Sansa as future
Lady of Karhold was an idea Ned could wrap his head around.
As daughter of the Warden of the North it was expected that she definitely
would marry the heir of a greater house, so the heirs of the mountain clans
weren’t an option.
This limited his options in the North. Besides the Umbers and Karstarks only
the Boltons, Manderlys or Glovers were valid options, but neither Lord Manderly
nor Lord Glover had a son in a fitting age. Wendel Manderly was too old for his
daughter and not the heir of White Harbor. And Gawen Glover had the same age as
Rickon.
Roose Bolton’s son had unfortunately died a few years ago, but he still had a
bastard that was officially his heir. Maybe if he would be legitimized by
Robert…
It had been several hundred years since last time the Boltons had rebelled
against the King in the North, but a match would benefit both house and keep
the Boltons from rebelling in the future.
Still, the rumors he heard about the bastard of the Dreadfort kept Ned from
thinking this match further.
He would rather marry Sansa to Howland's son, than to this vile bastard.
As much as Ned liked the idea of having a match between Winterfell and
Greywater Watch, he was sure that Sansa wouldn’t be happy. If Winterfell
already hadn’t much of the songs she loved, the swimming castle in the Neck
would seem like the deepest of the seven hells to her.
Ned sighed. War was easier than daughters, he thought.
“What is on your mind father,” Sansa asked next to him.
“It’s nothing. Just a lot I have to think about,” he said and his daughter
turned her attention back to joust that was about to start.
The first tilt was the Kingslayer against the Hound. Sandor Clegane was the
first rider to appear. He wore an olive-green cloak over his grey armor. That,
and his hound’s-head helm, were his only concession to ornament. Ned still
remembered how Clegane had helped his daughter all these years ago. Ned was
sure Sansa didn’t remember the incident and Clegane probably neither.
Sandor Clegane was a conundrum to him. On one hand, he seemed to be different
from his brother, but then Ned had heard several rumors of things he had done,
as Joffrey’s shield, back when he was still crown prince. Baelish had told him
about several occasions, where Clegane had apparently killed without mercy,
earning him his infamous nickname.
Ned didn’t know the truth, but brutality seem to run deep within the Clegane
family. Ned had never forgotten the day prince Aegon and princess Rhaenys had
been presented to Robert wrapped in Lannister cloaks, soaked by their blood.
And what Gregor Clegane had done to princess Elia, so shortly after her own
husband had knighted him…
The end of Robert's Rebellion was still a sore point between Ned and his
friend, but it didn’t matter now. It was history.
“A hundred golden dragons on the Kingslayer,” Littlefinger announced loudly as
Jaime Lannister appeared on the field.
“Done,” Lord Renly shouted back. “The Hound has a hungry look about him this
morning.”
“Even hungry dogs know better than to bite the hand that feeds them,”
Littlefinger called dryly.
Sandor Clegane dropped his visor with an audible clang and took up his
position. Ser Jaime followed his lead.
Ned Stark didn’t care who of them would lose, but he saw that Sansa was
watching it all moist-eyed and eager. The horses broke into a gallop. The Hound
leaned forward as he rode, his lance rock steady, but Jaime shifted his seat
deftly in the instant before impact. Clegane’s point was turned harmlessly
against the golden shield, while his own hit square. Wood shattered, and the
Hound was fighting to keep his seat. Sansa gasped at the sight. Was she rooting
for Clegane?
“I wonder how I ought to spend your money,” Littlefinger called down to Lord
Renly.
The Hound just managed to stay in his saddle. He jerked his horse around and
rode back for the second pass. Jaime Lannister tossed down his broken lance and
his squire brought him a new one. The Hound spurred forward at a hard gallop.
Lannister rode to meet him. This time, when Jaime shifted his seat, Sandor
Clegane shifted with him. Both lances exploded, and by the time the splinters
had settled, a rider less horse was trotting off in search of grass while Ser
Jaime Lannister rolled in the dirt.
“I knew the Hound would win,” his daughter declared and Ned was surprised that
she had rooted for the scarred warrior rather than the knight in the golden
armor.
After the joust Clegane returned to prince Gendry’s side, while Ser Jaime was
lead off to the forge, so the smith could cut off his dented helmet.
Ned secretly amused this public humiliation of the Kingslayer.
Moments later Ser Gregor rode onto the field.
“The knight of Flowers,” Sansa said dreamy voice next to him and all the ladies
on the ranks swooned over Ser Loras as he slowly rode in front of the podium.
He stopped right in front of Ned and handed his daughter a red rose, while the
lords and ladies around him started to snicker.
Sansa took the rose and Ned knew this was what she had probably dreamed off.
“Thank you, Ser Loras,” Sansa said and Ser Loras bowed his head before he got
onto the start position.
Sansa seemed to be fond of Ser Loras. A match with the Reach would probably
secure the supplies of the North for the next winter. And Winter is coming.
Ser Loras, though, was only the third son. His eldest brother Willas was heir
to Highgarden and Loras would either have to serve him as knight, or find his
own way in this world. A match between Sansa and Loras wouldn’t guarantee his
daughter a home in the Reach.
Sansa grabbed his arm tightly.
“Don’t let Ser Gregor hurt him,” she pleaded and Ned patted her hand.
“These are tourney lances,” he told his daughter. “They make them to splinter
on impact, so no one is hurt.”
“I can’t watch,” his daughter added.
“Hundred gold dragons on the Mountain,” Lord Baelish said from behind and the
King's youngest brother accepted the bet.
“He's going to die,” Sansa cried.
“Ser Loras rides well.”
A trumpet is heard and both competitors race down their lanes. Loras knocks Ser
Gregor off of his mount, after the giant black horse refuses to obey his cruel
master.
“Loras knew his mare was in heat. Quite crafty, really,” Baelish said behind
them, touching Sansas shoulder. Ned gave him a sharp glance and he immediately
took away his hand.
“Ser Loras would never do that! There's no honor in tricks.”
“No honor but quite a bit of gold.”
Ser Gregor got up from the ground and yelled for his squire to bring his sword.
He killed the horse with a single blow of such ferocity that it half severed
the animal’s neck. Cheers turned to shrieks in a heartbeat. The stallion went
to its knees, screaming as it died. By then Gregor was striding down the lists
toward Ser Loras Tyrell, his bloody sword clutched in his fist.
Before Ser Loras could react, the Mountain had already knocked him off his mare
with a single stroke.
Gregor tried to finish him off but the knight of Flowers managed to dodge the
Mountain's sword with his shield.
Just as Ser Gregor wanted to land another blow a raspy voice warned shouted
through the gasps of the crowd.
“Leave him be!” Sandor Clegane yelled and pushed his way down onto the tourney
field to face his brother.
The Mountain immediately swung his longsword in a killing arc with all his
massive strength behind it, but the Hound caught the blow with his own sword.
The two brothers stood hammering at each other while Ser Loras tried to stay
out of the brother’s way. Thrice Ned saw Ser Gregor aim savage blows at the
hound’s-head helmet, yet not once did Sandor send a cut at his brother’s
unprotected face.
Suddenly Roberts voice shut them all down.
“Stop this madness in the name of your King!” he yelled and Sandor Clegane
immediately got onto his knees, as Gregor’s last blow barely missed the Hounds
head.
Gregor furiously threw his sword into the dust and wanted to leave, but was
stopped by the king's guards, who let him pass after Robert gave the order.
Sandor Clegane got up from the ground.
“Is Ser Sandor the champion now?” Sansa asked Ned with sparkling eyes.
“No,” he told her. “There will be one final joust, between the Hound and the
Knight of Flowers.”
Ser Loras had gotten up from the ground himself.
“I owe you my life,” Ser Loras said. “The day is yours, ser.”
“I am no ser,” Clegane simply replied and Sansa was the first to jump from her
seat, smiling brightly as Ser Loras lifted the Hound’s arm into the air.
The King himself handed Clegane his prize money and when it came to crowning
the Queen of Love and Beauty with a crown of white roses, Ned and most of the
crowd were astonished when Sandor Clegane gently placed the crown of flowers on
Sansa’s lap.
King Robert simply laughed heartily and was mostly astonished that Sansa
blushed as she widely smiled accepting the flower crown, making the crowd cheer
in sensation.
***** Sandor *****
Chapter Notes
     A few weeks later...
See the end of the chapter for more notes
What a foolish move, Sandor thought as he sharpened prince Gendry’s hunting
pikes.
The last week had been tumultuous. Out of nowhere Lord Stark's wife had
imprisoned the Lannister Imp and taken him an unknown place only the gods knew
where.
Of course, the Kingslayer had acted rather harshly as soon as the news had
reached the capital.
Lord Stark had been in a rather nasty argument with the King earlier that day,
according to what prince Gendry had mentioned, and that he had wanted to resign
from being King Robert's hand.
His uncle Stannis had insisted that Gendry would partake on all meetings of the
small council unlike Joffrey had done, so he would learn to rule the seven
kingdoms someday.
He had told Sandor that there were rumors about some Targaryen girl on the
other end of the world and that his father was rather furious that she wasn’t
dead already, accusing his own brother Stannis to have failed getting rid of
Daenerys Targaryen when she still had been a baby in the crib.
The Kingslayer had cornered Lord Stark when he was leaving one of
Littlefinger's brothels, demanding of Lord Stark that he write his wife to free
his brother.
When Lord Stark had refused, it had come to a short skirmish, which caused the
death of two of Lord Starks guards and the injury of a third.
There would have been more death, maybe even Lord Stark, if Lord Stannis hadn’t
appeared with men of his own, to shut the fight down. Lord Stannis had been
searching for Lord Stark to convince him to stay as Robert’s Hand for a while
longer.
The Kingslayer left the city; breaking his oath as a Kingsguard to protect the
King and the royal family.
Later that day ravens left King´s Landing, to make sure the brother of the
Queen would be set free again, before Lord Tywin would free him on his own,
with all force necessary.
Ruling had exhausted King Robert and he had decided that he wanted to hunt in
the Kingswood. Lord Stannis and the Hand of the King should accompany him, but
they refused, telling him they would have to rule in his absence.
Robert couldn’t care less, just as always when he wanted to sink his spear into
some animal.
Sandor left the royal weapons chamber for the royal stables, where the stable
boys were already busy readying King Robert's horse.
Gendry entered the stables and began to ready his own horse. Even with suddenly
being the crown prince, he used to prepare his own like a normal man.
“Here,” Sandor said and handed him his spear.
“Thanks,” Gendry gave back. “Strange time to hunt. Even for my father.”
“Not that unusual,” Sandor answered. He still remembered how Robert had always
gone hunting for weeks when Cersei came close to giving birth.
They left the stables holding their horses on their reigns and Sandor looked up
in the clear blue sky.
This is going to be a hot day, Sandor thought just as King Robert arrived.
                                      ***
“More wine, your Grace?” asked Lancel Lannister every few minutes since hours.
They had crossed the Blackwater when the sun had been high in the sky and then
moved deep into the Kingswood.
The air was humid and Sandor felt the sweat run down his spine. Countless
insects filled the warm air. So far, they hadn’t been lucky on the hunt.
Robert drowned his frustration with the wine Lancel handed him every few
moments.
“Oh, what was I saying?” Robert said.
“A simpler time,” Renly said. The King's brother seemed to be rather annoyed
with Robert’s drunken state, while only the Kingsguard that accompanied them,
Lord Commander Barristan Selmy, seemed to be rather amused.
“It was!” Robert declared thrilled. “It was. You’re too young to remember.
Wasn’t it, Selmy?”
“It was, your Grace,” Ser Barristan said smirking.
“The enemy was right there in the open, vicious as you like, all but sending
you a bloody invitation. Nothing like today,” the king said with kind of
sadness in his voice.
“Sounds exhilarating,” Renly said rolling his eyes to Gendry while Sandor
followed in silence.
“Exhilarating, yes. Not as exhilarating as those balls and masquerades you like
to throw,” Robert said laughing and Renly was obviously annoyed. “You ever
fucked a Riverlands girl, Gendry?”
“No father,” Gendry said.
Sandor knew that Gendry was way different from his father. He wasn’t a whore
monger and neither did search the company of women at all as far as Sandor
knew, besides his casual interactions with his betrothed. Sandor even assumed
that he had never lain with a woman, but was sparing himself for his betrothed.
“You haven’t? You really should. Back in our day, you weren’t a real man until
you fucked a girl from each of the Seven Kingdoms and the Riverlands. We called
it ´making the eight´,” Robert said.
“Those were some lucky girls,” Renly added.
“You ever make the eight, Clegane?”
“Possible, too much dornish red to remember,” Sandor said and King Robert
laughed hearty. Honestly, Sandor had no idea if he had made the eight. Since he
had become Gendry’s sworn shield he hadn’t been to brothels that often anymore.
Being Joffrey’s shield had only been endurable with a lot of wine and brothel
visits to forget all the shit.
“And you Selmy?”
“I don’t believe so, your Grace,” the old knight said.
Robert laughed.
“Those were the days!”
Renly rammed his spear into the ground.
“What days were those? The ones where half of Westeros fought the other half
and millions died? Or before that, when the Mad King slaughtered women and
babies because the voices in his head told him they deserved it? Or way before
that when dragons burned whole cities to the ground?”
Robert obviously was angry with his youngest brother. He always got angry as
soon as the Targaryens were mentioned.
“Easy, boy. You might be my brother, but you’re speaking to the King.”
“I suppose it was all rather heroic. If you were drunk enough and had some poor
Riverlands whore to shove your cock inside and ´make the eight´,” Renly said
before he walked off the direction they were coming from.
Robert gave him an angry glance until he had disappeared behind some trees.
“More wine, your Grace?” Lancel asked and already unplugged the cork.
Robert took the wine skin and took a long gulp.
They continued their stalk until they heard the characteristic sounds of a
boar.
“This one mine,” Robert declared and Sandor could clearly hear his drunken
state in his voice.
“Are you sure father?” Gendry asked. “Maybe I should hunt it down.”
“Nonsense, I am more than capable to take down the beast,” Robert said and
dismissed any other concern.
Gendry gave Sandor a glance and Sandor saw that Gendry doubted as much as
Sandor that the King was capable of killing a boar.
The undergrowth was cracking and a huge boar with giant tusks came running
towards them.
“Come here you fucker,” Robert yelled and lifted his spear. Robert aimed and
threw.
Unfortunately, the spear landed a few meters short and the boar continued his
deadly rush towards them.
Before anyone else reacted to the King's missed throw, Sandor already lifted
his own spear and threw it.
The spear hit the boar exactly in its eye, driving itself deep into its skull.
The beast stumbled and slid towards the King, who was trying to pull his
dagger, until it lay dead at Robert’s boots.
Ser Barristan and Gendry were looking at him, while Robert just gave the boar a
kick with his boot to make sure it was really dead.
“What throw Clegane!” the King declared thrilled.
“You just saved our King,” Ser Barristan said respectful.
“I did nothing. I just killed the damn boar,” Sandor said. He didn’t want fame
or recognition.
“You did you saved your king and my father,” Gendry said.
“Aye he did,” Robert told everyone with his booming voice. “You just might have
changed the history Clegane. Who knows what would have happened if you had
missed or not thrown at all.”
“I just did my duty,” Sandor said plainly pulling the spear out of the boar.
That beast would have killed him easily, Sandor thought.
“Nonsense Clegane. Many men would have run away. You just saved your King and
served the realm. I don’t forget the men who served me and showed how loyal
they are,” Robert declared with a clap on Sandor’s shoulder. “Your reward will
be generous, when we return to the capital. You shall have everything your
heart desires.”
Chapter End Notes
     sooooooo...what do you think will happen?^^
***** Ned *****
“Ned! You won’t believe what happened during the hunt,” Robert had declared
excited, earlier this afternoon, as he had returned with the others of his
hunting trip, before telling Ned and Stannis how the giant boar had nearly
killed him if Clegane hadn’t saved him.
The boar had been a giant beast. Eight servants had to carry it and they looked
like they would nearly collapse under its weight.
Stannis had scolded Robert for his recklessness. Stannis knew that Robert’s
death would have plunged the realm into chaos.
Gendry still had to learn a lot until he could take over as King and who knows
who might rebel if the King was a young inexperienced man.
Maybe the Greyjoys, Ned suspected. Even with Theon their prisoner it was a real
possibility of the Iron Islands turning against the crown again. With Ned in
the South the duty to execute Theon would fall to Robb and Ned wasn’t sure his
eldest would be up to the task to kill the boy he grew up with most of his
life.
But this catastrophe had been prevented luckily.
Robert told Stannis than he shouldn’t be a bore. Stannis didn’t say anything
further and simply brooded for the rest of the day.
Strangely enough Cersei had been kind of surprised when she saw Robert and
seemed to be angry at Lancel Lannister for some reason. Ned couldn’t make any
sense of it.
Robert was in celebration mood. He wanted the whole court to taste the boar
that had nearly killed him.
Pavilions were erected quickly in the courtyards of the Red Keep and servants
roasted the boar over a huge fire for several hours.
The smell of roast and fresh bread filled the courtyards while all the lords
and ladies of the court celebrated that the King had returned safe and sound.
The celebration, even with being organized rather quick, was far larger than
the feast held at Winterfell to honor Robert's visit.
Ale and all kinds of wines from all over the world were poured freely all
evening and everybody celebrated openly. Robert ate for three and drank for
four men, while Clegane was given the place of honor next to prince Gendry.
Ned was thankful for the distraction if he was honest. The last couple of weeks
had been rather testing for him, but even Ned for once enjoyed these moments of
peace and relaxation.
He was also glad that Arya had stopped her hostile behavior towards her
betrothed. Maybe they would even fall in love in the future, or at least make
their future marriage work better than Robert did with Cersei.
Maybe they can become what Robert always dreamed of with Lyanna, Ned thought.
Ned sipped his wine and watched Sansa dancing and smiling with some young
knight of the crownlands, just as one of the servants addressed him.
“Excuse me Lord Hand, but the King seeks a private conversation in his solar.”
“Of course,” Ned said. “Tell the King I’ll be there in a few.”
The servant bowed his head and left, while Ned turned to septa Mordane.
“The King demands my presence,” he told the septa. “Keep an eye on the girls
and accompany them to their rooms if they want to leave.”
“As you wish my Lord,” the septa said.
“And make sure it doesn’t get too late for them,” Ned added and Mordane nodded.
Ned left the feast and while he was walking the corridor of red stone that led
to the King's private solar, he tried to think about what Robert would want
from him now.
It must be something really important if it made Robert leave his own feast to
talk to him, Ned thought.
As Ned entered the King's private solar he was surprised to see Clegane already
waiting.
“The King wants to see you too?” Ned asked a bit suspicious.
“Aye,” Clegane simply said.
“Any idea why the King wants us here?”
“No.”
He isn’t a man of many words obviously, Ned thought.
“Good to see that you’re already getting familiar with each other,” Robert
declared profusely as he entered the solar with his finely crafted cup in his
hand.
“Have a seat.”
Ned and Clegane took their seats on the other side of Roberts large table. The
sound from the feast below in the courtyards echoed through the open windows.
“What is this about Robert?” Ned asked.
“I thought it would be nice to introduce you to your daughter's betrothed,”
Robert said with a smug grin.
Ned frowned.
“Betrothed? I already know Gendry,” Ned said and looked over to Clegane who was
frowning too.
“No need to frown Clegane. Did you think I haven’t noticed the looks you gave
Ned´s pretty redhead during the feast? See your betrothal as reward for saving
your king today.”
“You can’t be serious Robert!” Ned nearly yelled at his old friend.
“Why not? Don’t you think I know you are looking for a husband for your pretty
daughter?”, Robert asked his friend. “Or do you already have a betrothal in
mind? Maybe with Ser Loras Tyrell or Ser Harrold Hardyng?”
Ned was slightly taken aback by Robert’s reaction.
“Well not yet, but…” Ned started, but was immediately interrupted by Robert.
“Your daughter needs a real man, not some southern sissy so green behind his
ears he still pisses grass. Clegane has shown what a skilled fighter he is. You
saw how he defended Ser Loras against the Mountain.”
Ned couldn’t deny that the Hound was a remarkable warrior, but he was still
more than a decade past Sansas age.
“He is too old Robert and only the second son of landed knight,” Ned threw in.
“So, he is too low born for your daughter? I can help with that,” Robert said
and took another deep gulp of his wine, before starting to write a letter and
handing it over to Ned. “I left some space for the place he is now Lord of. You
can put it in after you decided what part of the North his lordship will
include. And for the topic of his age. He might be older than your daughter,
but he is still in his prime and let’s not forget how old Jon Arryn was when he
married your wife’s sister.”
Ned knew that it wasn’t unusual within the nobility that the wives were
significant younger than their husbands, but he had hoped to make a match for
Sansa with somebody closer to her age and someone…better looking.
Sansa loved the nice things. Handsome knights and beautiful princes, just like
in her stories. And while the good side of his face looked homely enough, the
other side could have come straight out of one of the seven hells.
“I know, but…” Ned started again, but Robert again interrupted him.
“You and your ´buts´ all the time. No buts anymore. I am the King I get what I
want and Clegane will marry your daughter.”
Damn Robert and his stubborn will, Ned thought.
“For now, I only agree to the betrothal Robert, but know that Clegane is not my
choice, considering the reputation of his family. Sansa is still my child and I
won’t allow her to marry until she is at least fit to marry.”
Sansa was still a child. Catelyn had told him that his daughter hadn’t flowered
yet as they had left Winterfell but Ned knew it was just a matter of time until
it happened. His daughter stood on the edge of womanhood, but he hoped that
there would still pass some time until septa Mordane would tell him that his
little girl had become a woman.
Robert nodded.
“That’s your right as a father to demand it, but the wedding will happen. I
won’t let the people think that I don’t know how to reward my savior,” Robert
said and got up from the table, after drinking the rest of his wine in his cup.
“And don’t worry about a dowry Ned. I’ll pay it.”
Robert sighed and scratched his beard. “Good that this is sorted out, now I
need more wine and I guess you two have to sort out two things on your own,”
Robert said with a laughter and clapped Ned on the shoulder before leaving the
room, without another word.
“Was that your idea?” Ned simply asked turning to Clegane, who had been
suspiciously quiet during the whole talk.
“No, Lord Hand. I had no idea what the King had in mind,” the scarred man
simply rasped.
“Really? I know about the reputation of your brother. I saw what he did to Elia
Martell and her children,” Ned said and remembered the argument he had with
Robert nearly twenty years ago, when Tywin Lannister had presented what was
left of the Targaryen children, wrapped in Lannister cloaks. “I feel you are
not like your brother, after all you fought him to save Ser Loras, but Sansa…”
“Your daughter deserves someone better than me…I know,” Clegane interrupted him
and Ned was surprised that Clegane spoke so straightforward. Not many men did
and least dared to interrupt the Hand of the King.
“I know I am not worthy of her by all means. I know that she will grow into a
woman so beautiful, all men in the seven kingdoms will turn their heads towards
her. They already do. I know I am not what your daughter deserves, but truth to
be told nobody deserves the pure soul that is your daughter.”
Ned was slightly taken aback by that declaration. He had expected Clegane to
argue why he is the only right choice for Sansa, but the Hound’s brutal honesty
against himself made Ned think if there was more to Clegane the eye could see.
Ned had never forgotten how it had been this scarred warrior who had brought
his daughter back all these years, when he had been in the capital after the
Greyjoy Rebellion.
Ned sighed and rubbed his forehead.
 
“I know Robert. It’s most unlikely he will be come back on his decision
regarding you and my daughter’s betrothal we should talk about the general
conditions of your betrothal,” Ned started and poured them both a cup of wine,
from a table nearby. “To repeat myself. There will be no wedding before Sansa
has flowered.”
“I understand and I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Clegane rasped. “After all
I am not like Trant,” he added in murmur and Ned had no idea what he meant by
that.
“I will give you lands close to Winterfell. If Sansa can’t get the marriage
with whom she wants, she should at least be close to her home,” Ned said. “I
will grant you and Sansa funds to build your keep after your wishes. See it as
replacement for the dowry. Until your keep is finished you will stay in
Winterfell.”
“That is more than generous my Lord Hand.”
“It more for Sansa and not for you, be sure of that. I assume you can run your
keep easily with the money you won at the tournament and the one your will
receive by Robert.”
“I will. I also have other savings from other tourneys,” Clegane said and Ned
nodded.
At least he is able to provide for Sansa, Ned thought. How many of the southern
lordlings lived of the money of their fathers, while waiting for the time they
would inherit their houses wealth.
“I am glad to hear that. Further things can be talked about when the actual
wedding is coming,” Ned said and noticed that the sounds from the courtyards
slowly began to fade away. The feast was obviously coming to an end.
He got up from his chair and Clegane followed his lead. Ned realized that he
had never been that close to Clegane before. During the hunt at Winterfell,
Clegane had stayed with Gendry all the time, while Ned had been with Robert.
The man was huge and build like many imagined the Warrior to be build. Besides
his face, he might be everything women would swoon over.
“Lord Stark,” Clegane spoke up and Ned turned to him. “Who is going to tell
your daughter?” he asked.
“I’ll do it when the time comes. No need to tell her now and end her childhood
that abruptly, don’t you think?” Ned told him.
“Aye. You are her father you certainly know best,” Clegane said and turned to
take his leave. “Good night, Lord Stark,” he said and bowed his head before
walking away purposefully in the direction his room were located.
Ned still couldn’t believe that Robert had ordered this betrothal. He walked up
the stairs leading to the Tower of the Hand wondering how he should explain the
situation to Cat.
Reaching the floor where his rooms were located he surprised Septa Mordane with
his daughters. Arya looked like she was nearly asleep while walking, while
Sansa was radiating with joy. Sansa looked at him widely smiling as she entered
her room and Ned couldn’t help but smile back at his eldest daughter.
If you knew what the King has decided for you, Ned thought and hoped that
Sansa's wedding wouldn’t come too soon.
***** Sansa *****
Chapter Notes
     Sorry I didnt update sooner, but real life was preventing it, but
     here it is.
Nearly three months had passed since King Robert’s incident with the boar. The
turmoil within the court and the city had quickly ended after the feast held to
celebrate Robert's survival.
Everything was business as usual, even if her father seemed to be changed since
the day his old friend had nearly died.
Even Arya noticed the change in their father’s behavior, but he refused to give
his daughters an answer every time they asked him.
Sansa assumed it was simply the work he had to deal with.
Her relation with Joffrey was still inconsistent. On some days, he asked her to
take a stroll through the castle gardens and gave her little gifts like a
necklace, displaying the same lion her mother had, while ignoring her
completely on other days.
Her father still had not given any hint if he was negotiating any matches for
her. Sansa wasn’t yet ready to ask her father about it, but her fourteenth
nameday had already passed and she slowly but surely started to worry, since
her mother had already been betrothed at her age.
Over the course of the last couple of days Sansa hadn’t felt well. She had been
plagued by a strange feeling in her belly.
Septa Mordane thought that it might be the summer flu that was raging within
the city walls the last couple of weeks. Even Jeyne hadn’t slept in her room
last night, in fear of the flue. Usually Jeyne slept with Sansa in the same
room and the girls tittered and laughed about the day at court until they fell
asleep, but last night her bed had been empty.
Sansa awoke slowly. The fresh humid morning air came through the window from
the sea and some birds chirped in the castle gardens.
She opened her eyes slowly and looked at the canopy of the bed and felt some
strange pain in her lower belly and she felt some strange sticky wetness
between her legs.
She hesitantly touched herself to see what caused that feeling, but her eyes
shot open when she felt how wet and sticky it was.
Sansa quickly sat up in bed when she saw that blood coated the tips of her
fingers. In panic, she threw back her blanket and saw her inner thighs sticky
with blood.
“Septa Mordane!” Sansa yelped while getting out of bed, she saw that even some
blood had soaked through her nightgown into the sheets.
“Septa Mordane!” Sansa yelled again and the door opened quickly and Septa
Mordane came inside.
“Sansa, why are you yelling?” she asked, closing the door behind her.
Sansa didn’t know what she should answer and simply held up her bloodied
fingers, feeling tears well in her eyes.
“Ohh dear child, that’s no need to cry,” she said. “You flowered for the first
time. Nothing more.” Mordane opened the door, where a serving girl was already
waiting.
“Bring warm water,” Mordane ordered and the servant bowed her head and left.
I flowered, Sansa thought. Her mother had always told her it was something
magical and mysterious. The point where she became a woman. But this wasn’t
magical. It was so messy. Not at all like her mother had described it.
The servant returned with a bowl of hot water and Mordane helped her out of the
bloodied nightgown and handed her a wet rag to clean herself.
After that Mordane gave her some patches of clothes to wear in her
smallclothes. In the meantime, the cramps in her belly had become a little more
intense.
“Are the cramps normal Septa?” Sansa asked.
“Yes Sansa, the monthly courses of women can be accompanied by cramps and other
symptoms,” she said and sat down at the table, gesturing her to do the same.
“Do you know what today means for you?” Mordane asked and Sansa knew that she
now wanted to her the answer she had learned in her lessons long ago.
“That I am now fit to be wedded and bedded,” Sansa said looking at her folded
hands in her lap.
“Indeed. And to do your most sacred duty to bear your future lord husband
strong, healthy heirs and now the gods have given you the ability to do so,”
Mordane explained and Sansa nodded humble.
“I know you since you have been a little girl. I always tried to teach you the
ways of a lady. Now you are a maiden and many men will seek to defile your
purity with sweet words and gifts. It has always been that way. Your maiden´s
purity is your greatest treasure and you have to guard it. Your purity
represents not only your virtue as lady, but also the honor of House Stark, you
understand?”
“Yes, septa,” Sansa said not looking up. She had learned about many highborn
maidens in the history of the seven Kingdoms that had thrown away their
innocence and by this brought shame over their houses.
“And a lady doesn’t speak about her monthly courses. She endures them in
silence and dignity. And when the time comes for you to marry, you will dutiful
give your maiden’s gift to the husband your father will choose for you,” the
septa continued.
“Septa?” Sansa asked.
“Yes, Sansa”?
“How is it to lie with a man?”
The septa looked uncomfortable with the question.
“You will know when the time comes Sansa, for now its enough for you to know
that it’s a duty for you to perform, to be blessed with a son and heir for you
husband.”
“I understand septa.”
“You should now go to break your fast with your sister and Jeyne, while I
inform your Lord father about your flowering,” Mordane said getting up from her
chair.
Sansa finished dressing and brushed out her air and braided it in a simple
northern way for once, instead of the extravagant style of the south.
When she arrived at the breakfast table, Jeyne and Arya immediately asked her
why she came so late. Sansa only reluctantly told them about the reason why she
had come this late. She couldn’t stop to blush while she spoke the words.
Jeyne asked her questions the whole time, while Arya only rolled her eyes at
her eagerness to get Sansa to talk about details, since she hadn’t flowered
herself yet and was more than excited for the day.
Sansa only told her that it wasn’t how they had always expected it.
The thought that she now was a flowered maiden was still strange to her and she
only managed to eat some grapes alongside some honey sweetened milk for the
rest of the day.
                                      ***
Sansas father didn’t appear to break their fast, even after Mordane had
returned. Neither did he come to eat lunch with her and Arya.
Sansa thought it strange, because their father always came to eat lunch with
them, even if he had a lot of work to do.
Arya spent the rest of the day with prince Gendry, after he had asked her if
she wanted to spend time together.
Joffrey didn’t ask her to take a stroll today and Sansa wasn’t interested in
spending her afternoon with Jeyne and Septa Mordane practicing embroidering,
even if Shireen was allowed by her mother to embroider with them for the first
time, so she spent the rest of the day in one of the castle gardens close to
the tower of the hand with Lady, always interrupted by short visits to the
privy to change the clothes.
It still felt so unreal, Sansa thought while she stroked through the soft fur
of her direwolf.
Yesterday she had been a girl and now she was a woman.
Their father finally met with them during dinner. Sansa saw that Arya had a lot
of scratches from her dancing lessons again, but her little sister didn’t seem
to mind, like always.
Her father though looked tired.
“Is everything in order my Lord,” Septa Mordane asked her father.
“Yes, just a lot of work.”
Sansa was glad the cramps in her belly had diminished a little and so Sansa
could enjoy her roasted partridge in relative ease.
Much to her surprise there were a pile of lemon cakes for dessert. Her father
told them he had ordered them for Sansa today, since today was a special day
for her.
Arya had just rolled her eyes, but Sansa had ignored it, when her father had
said it.
After dinner Sansa went to her room to prepare for bed. She hadn’t yet dressed
into her nightgown. She was sitting at her dressing table and was just brushing
out her hair when someone knocked on the door.
Sansa stood up and opened the door to find her father on the other side.
“Can I come in?” her father asked warmly.
“Of course, father,” Sansa said smiling and stepped aside to allow her father
to enter her room.
Her father sat down at her table and Sansa took her seat next to him, folding
her hands in her lap.
“Is everything alright, father?” Sansa asked.
“Yes, Sansa. I just thought it was time to talk with you,” her father said and
sighed.
Sansa wrung her hands and her father scratched his forehead.
“Septa Mordane told me that my little girl isn’t my little girl anymore,” her
father started. “How are you feeling?”
“I am alright father, besides some cramps,” Sansa said in honest and her father
nodded understanding.
“I still remember the day you were born. I had the bells ring a whole day and a
whole night to let everyone know that house Stark had been gifted with a
precious daughter. You have no idea how happy I was when I first held you and
you smiled back at me. I hoped you would never grow up and always stay my
little girl,” Ned said and Sansa smiled at her father’s words and felt her face
blush.
“But now the day I dreaded has come and my little girl has become a woman,” he
continued and smiled somehow sadly. “Do you know what this means?”
“I am now fit to be wedded and bedded by whoever you think suitable,” Sansa
recited her lectures and she saw her father nod lightly, not meeting her eyes.
“Father, do you have someone in mind, suitable to become my husband?” Sansa
asked with a hint of excitement in her voice.
“No, Sansa,” Her father said and Sansa heart sank. “But the King has,” her
father added and Sansa heart rate quickened.
If the king is involved, it can only be Joffrey, Sansa thought excited.
“Who has the King in mind for me?” Sansa asked and her father sighed.
“Sandor Clegane.”
Sansa frowned and felt her heart sink.
“The prince’s sworn shield?” she asked.
“Actually, its Lord Clegane now. The King granted him a lordship and your hand
in marriage as reward for saving him during the hunting incident,” Her father
said.
“Does that mean we are already betrothed?” Sansa asked.
“Since the evening of the feast. But we both decided not to tell you
immediately, so your childhood doesn’t end abrupt. He wasn’t my choice, I
always wanted someone more…good looking and younger for you, but the King
insisted,” Her father said and it sounded like he tried to apologize.
Sansa had always dreamed that her marriage would be like in the songs and
stories, but now the reality had caught up to her.
“If the king ordered it you had no choice father and it’s my duty to obey the
wishes of our king,” Sansa said humble.
“Still, it should be a father to choose who gets his daughter’s hand in
marriage, not the king. I know Clegane isn’t who you wished for, but I am sure
you will make the marriage work. I should probably have told you but you two
already met once.”
“I know he was the knight who helped me find you when I got lost on the feast
after the Greyjoy Rebellion,” Sansa said and her father seemed surprised that
she knew.
“When…when are we to marry, father?” Sansa asked carefully.
“Soon. I insisted that you won’t marry until you have flowered, but now…I guess
a date will soon be announced. I’ll have to tell Robert and Clegane tomorrow,
but be sure it will still be at least one or two months, so your mother can
travel here and we can make preparations.”
“I understand father,” Sansa said. So soon, Sansa thought.
“I know it’s not how you probably imagined your wedding, but I will make sure
it will be at least a wedding like you always wanted it. It will be exactly
like you wish it to be, my darling girl.”
Sansa nodded.
“Where will we live? Will Clegane remain here as the princes´ shield?”
“Clegane won’t be Prince Gendry’s shield anymore. That would be improper for a
lord. I will give him lands close to Winterfell. The king has insisted of
taking care of the dowry and I will give you money too, so you will be able to
build a new keep just like you imagine it. You will be able to always come home
if you feel the need to,” her father said warmly.
“Does mother already know, about my betrothal?”
“Not yet,” he said scratching his beard. “But I’ll send her a raven tomorrow.
I’ll explain everything to her.”
Sansa nodded.
“How do you feel, Sansa?” her father asked.
“I…I don’t know father. It’s pretty overwhelming right now to be honest,” Sansa
said.
“It’s understandable. It’s alright if you want to cry, Sansa, I would
understand. I know it’s not what you dreamed off, but sometimes we aren’t given
a choice,” her father explained warmly.
“I know father. It’s my duty and I will do my duty, father,” Sansa said and her
father smiled sadly at her.
“My daughter. The perfect lady. Since you’ve been three you have behaved like a
lady. You make me proud to be your father.”
Sansa smiled and thought that she saw some tears shine in her father’s eyes.
“It’s getting late, sweet girl,” he said after a moment of silence. “We should
go to bed.”
“Can Lady sleep in my room tonight?” Sansa asked. She wished to have some
company, after all the sudden developments.
“Of course, Sansa, I’ll have her brought to you immediately,” her father said
and got up from his chair.
Sansa accompanied him to the door and her father ordered one of his guards to
get Lady from the kennel that had been erected for Lady, because she couldn’t
be locked in with the other dogs.
It didn’t take long for the guard to return with Lady.
“Have a good night, Sansa,” her father said.
“You too, father,” Sansa said and hugged her father, taking in his familiar
scent, that gave her a feeling of security and comfort. “I love you, father.”
“I love you too, Sansa,” her father said and she felt him kiss the crown of her
hair.
Sansa loosened the embrace and smiled at her father, who smiled warmly back at
her.
“Sleep well,” her father said and left after Sansa wished him a good night
again too.
Sansa locked the door and changed into her nightgown, before she got under her
blanket.
Sansa petted the sheet next to her and Lady got up onto the bed and licked her
fingers.
Lady snuggled up to her and Sansa sighed satisfied at the warmth her direwolf
was emitting. The warmth felt good and helped with the cramps in her lower
belly.
Sansa stared at the canopy of her bed and absently stroked through Lady’s fur,
as she thought about what her father had told her.
Yesterday she had been a girl. Tonight, she was an already betrothed woman,
soon to be wedded.
She thought about Sandor Clegane. Even if she had seen him often in the last
months, she knew nothing about the man she was about to marry.
He was for certain a skilled warrior, she had seen it at her father’s tourney.
She knew about his scars. She probably was the only one.
He trusts me, Sansa realized. Maybe I should get to know him.
Even if he trusted her, she also had heard rumors about his deeds as he had
been Joffrey’s shield and how he got his infamous nickname.
She had also heard some servants titter about his fondness of wine and loose
women.
What if he visits other women? Maybe he even shows up with a bastard someday,
Sansa thought horrified.
She knew well enough that many highborn Lords had bastard children, besides
their trueborn children. Gendry was the best example.
Even her father had a bastard with Jon.
I will endure it with dignity, Sansa thought. Just like mother had with Jon.
“Courtesy is a lady’s armor,” Sansa said. “I will make him love me Lady. You
will see. If I give him strong sons, he might come to love me someday,” Sansa
continued to whisper to Lady and her wolf only growled as answer.
Sansa buried her nose into her wolfs soft fur and soon fell asleep to the
rhythmically breathing of her beloved wolf.
***** Sansa *****
The last month had been strange and challenging for Sansa.
The morning after her father had told her about her betrothal, she had told it
to Jeyne, Arya and Mordane during breakfast.
Arya had simply laughed at first, thinking it was a bad jape that her lady
sister, who had always wanted a handsome prince or knight, was now betrothed to
a former sworn shield, through the will of the King.
Furthermore, her friend had been shocked that Sansa now had to marry Clegane.
Jeyne had always been scared by Clegane and just the thought that her friend
had now to spend the rest of her life with him, was too much for her and she
had told her over and over again how sorry she was, especially since she knew
everything about Sansa’s crush on prince Joffrey.
Mordane on the other hand had been calm and told her that it was the highest
honor, if the King had chosen her future husband.
Later that same day her father must have told Clegane about her flowering, just
before he had told the King. The King had made her and Clegane’s betrothal
public during court later that day and ordered them to marry as soon as
possible.
Her father had told her the same evening that he had sent a raven to Winterfell
explaining her mother everything alongside an invitation for the wedding, that
should be celebrated only a week after her mother arrived.
After King Robert had made it public, everybody at court treated her suddenly
differently. She had tried to ignore the snicker and laughter behind her back,
every time her father wasn’t around, ever since.
She held her head high and tried to hide how hurt she was behind her mask of
dignity as a highborn lady.
Her mask had crumbled a little though, as Joffrey had laughed and made fun of
her, that she would soon be degraded by being married to the second son of a
minor house. Not worthy of even dreaming about marrying a prince.
Sansa had retorted that Clegane had been made a lord by Joffrey’s father.
Joffrey had just pouted and shrugged, before he told her that it didn’t matter
since she would now be the Hound’s bitch to be fucked bloody, whenever he had
need of her.
Sansa hadn’t said anything further, but simply left, while Joffrey had yelled
curses after her, he was the prince and nobody could leave his presence without
his permission.
Sansa had told no one about this incident, since she refused to believe that
her future lord husband would ever treat her that way. At least she hoped he
wouldn’t.
                                      ***
A few days later a servant had brought a small packet, while Sansa had broken
her fast with her father, sister and Septa Mordane.
A small note was included in the packet, but Sansa didn’t recognize the
handwriting.
The letter was from her betrothed and when she opened the box she found a
necklace in it. It displayed a direwolf made of silver and a hound made of gold
shining yellow as the corn on the fields.
Sansa touched the delicate details of the necklace, before she read the letter.
A belated name day present. Hope you like it – your betrothed.
Sansa had been surprised that her betrothed knew about her name day.
Her father noticed that it was a costly necklace according to the kind of
craftsmanship needed to make one like that.
Sansa had felt a flutter in her chest at the thought that her future husband
would spend a lot of money for a belated name day present.
Septa Mordane of course had insisted that she should thank him in person like a
proper lady.
Sansa had then looked over to her father, who had reluctantly agreed that she
could thank her betrothed and maybe take a stroll to the gardens, but only if
Septa Mordane would accompany them as chaperone.
Mordane had of course agreed and so Sansa had asked her betrothed if he would
like to accompany her for a stroll.
Since he was still serving as prince Gendry’s shield until the actual wedding,
he had to ask the prince first, but Arya’s future husband had allowed him to
spend time with Sansa.
While they strolled through the gardens, Sansa felt the eyes of the other
people they passed on them.
Her betrothed obviously felt uncomfortable to be seen this public. Sansa tried
to show to her betrothed that he shouldn’t care about the opinion of the
others, by linking her arm with his.
She felt him tense when she touched his arm and Sansa turned around to Mordane,
hoping to see that she would approve of her behavior.
Mordane nodded lightly and Sansa was surprised and a little confused to see
that Jory was walking next to her.
Did her father think, that her betrothed would harm her?
That was the only explanation Sansa came up with, but she tried to ignore the
thought for now.
When they found a stone bench in a part of the gardens overseeing the
Blackwater Bay, they sat down and Sansa gathered the courage to thank him for
the necklace. She told him how pretty it was and how much she liked it.
He had chuckled at her words and she couldn’t say if he was amused or annoyed
by her courtesies. Her future husband was still like a book with seven seals
for her.
After a moment, he had rasped how glad he was that she liked the gift. Sansa
had been surprised how soft his voice could sound when he had spoken with her.
After that short moment, he had glanced over to Mordane and Jory who were
waiting in some distance, watching over every one of their interactions.
In the stories the lady would now give her brave knight a kiss to thank him,
Sansa had thought, but quickly put away the thought, because Mordane wouldn’t
have approved of that behavior.
Sansa internally sighed. Maybe after they were married it would be easier to
really get to know him.
                                      ***
Tomorrow was her wedding. It was strange. Sansa had always dreamed about her
wedding in all details, but to know they would really be together still felt
strange to her.
Tomorrow her life would take a new path and that would determine the rest of
her life.
Her mother had arrived in the capital ten days ago with a ship from White
Harbor.
Sansa had hoped that her brothers might travel with her, but she had traveled
only with Ser Rodrick as guard.
Robb had to stay in Winterfell, because he was the heir and their always needed
to be a Stark in Winterfell. Bran was still recovering and Rickon was too
little to make this journey via ship.
Sansa had still been very excited to finally see her mother again. Arya had
been excited too.
They had awaited her mother alongside her father and his guards at the docks
outside the Mudgate.
Her mother hadn’t changed from the last time Sansa had seen her in the
courtyard of Winterfell.
Her mother on the other hand had said how much Sansa had grown and how
beautiful she had become. She had said the same to Arya.
Sansa had smiled at the long kiss her father and mother had shared at the docks
and she hoped that she would be able to develop the same bond with her husband.
After dinner later the same day, her mother and father had gone to his solar
and Sansa had heard them argue through the open window, even if she was in her
room a floor beneath her father’s solar.
Sansa could only guess what they were arguing about, but Sansa guessed that her
mother wasn’t happy about her eldest daughter’s upcoming wedding.
That had been ten days ago and tomorrow afternoon she would wed Sandor Clegane
in the sept of Baelor.
Her father had suggested a small ceremony in the castle’s godswood, or in the
castle sept, if Sansa would prefer the Seven over the Old Gods, but King Robert
had ultimately made the decision for them.
“The daughter of my oldest and best friend deserves to be married in the Great
Sept of Baelor equal to the royal family,” King Robert had declared.
Sansa should feel excited to marry in the Sept of Baelor, but she was nervous
instead.
What if she tripped on her way to the septon? Or what if Arya misbehaved?
It would be so embarrassing.
Tomorrow was her day. And even if her betrothed wasn’t what she originally had
dreamed of she wanted her wedding to be as beautiful as she had always imagined
it.
Her father had told her he would make sure that everything she wanted would be
there. Sansa had asked if they would be able to have lemon cakes and her father
had assured her the lemon cakes wouldn’t run out on her feast.
She had also asked her father to ask her betrothed if he would like something
particular during the feast.
Her mother though had visited every single dressmaker in King’s Landing with
her in the week after her arrival.
Arya had complained the whole time while the countless seamstresses had tried
to convince her mother of their skill, to get the honor of sewing Sansa’s
dress.
Her mother wanted Arya to at least start to collect ideas for her own dress,
while Arya had only cursed under her breath that it would still be a long time
until she would wed and that she wouldn’t wear a dress anyway. Sansa had
laughed and her sister had smiled back at her.
Her mother had finally been satisfied with a dressmaker from Braavos and the
fine fabrics he had in his shop.
Earlier today her dress had been delivered to the Red Keep and of course her
mother had insisted that Sansa would have a fitting for it.
The dress fitted her perfectly.
It was sewn out of white and grey silk and brocade and had a short train. The
cut was modest, but it still accentuated her curves.
Sansa hoped dearly her soon to be husband would like the dress.
Her mother was brushing out her hair, like she had done it back in Winterfell
and Sansa was enjoying every moment.
“How are you feeling Sansa?” her mother asked warmly.
“A bit nervous mother. I am going to be a married woman tomorrow.”
“Indeed. My darling daughter,” her mother said. “I still remember when I
married your father. I was nervous too. I didn’t know him back then. He was a
stranger to me. We build our love over the time.”
“Do you think I will be able to have that too?” Sansa asked.
Her mother was quiet for a moment, but still brushing her hair.
“I hope you will. I always wanted you to find love just like me. I hoped your
father would find some knight or lord for you. I certainly didn’t think you
would have to marry the second son of a minor house, because the King ordered
it,” she said and sounded sad.
Her mother put down the brush on the dressing table and got a second chair to
sit down next to her.
“I guess Septa Mordane has already told you the duties of a future wife,” her
mother started and Sansa nodded.
“She already spoke with me. She told me how it was my duty to lie with my
husband as often as he desired for the purpose of making an heir. And that’s my
duty to obey his wishes. She hasn’t told me any details about lying with a man
though.”
“That’s a mother’s job to prepare her daughter for her wedding night. But Septa
Mordane told you about the basics, didn’t she?”
Sansa felt her face warm up at the memory of what Mordane had told her
yesterday. Sansa folded her hands in her lap.
“She explained to me what is necessary to father children. That he…he has to
enter me…with his…,” Sansa said and felt herself blush even more.
“Manhood,” her mother continued for her and Sansa nodded, casting her eyes
down.
“And that he has to do it to put his seed in me, so I will be gifted with a
child.”
“It’s the highest duty of a lady to make sure her lord husband has an heir to
carry on his family name.”
Sansa fiddled with her nightgown, before she spoke up.
“How is it to share a bed with a man? Will it hurt, mother?” Sansa asked
hesitantly.
“I would like to tell you it won’t hurt, but giving your maidenhead to your
husband will most likely hurt. If he is gentle with you afterwards it won’t
hurt and it can be…” her mother said and looked like she was searching for the
right words. “It can be quite nice.”
“Will he be gentle to me?” Sansa asked, knowing her mother won’t have any
answer for her.
“I don’t know, but if you obey his wishes, he won’t have any reason no to,” her
mother said and tried to sound convincing.
“How do I know when he intends to take his marital rights, mother?”
“He will tell you, Sansa, but if you have your monthly courses, you can refuse
his demands. Same goes when you are with child and after you give birth for a
certain time.”
Sansa nodded and wrung her hands.
“I am so proud of you Sansa,” her mother said. “My daughter, the first to
marry. I wish it was the handsome man you always dreamed off, but you are
strong and I am sure you will love the children you will have.”
“Thank you, mother,” she said at her mother’s compliment.
“It’s getting late Sansa and tomorrow will be long day. You should go to bed.
I´ll wake you tomorrow so you have enough time to bathe and dress, before we go
to the sept,” her mother said getting up from the chair.
Sansa got up and went to bed pulling her blanket up to her chin.
“Good night, mother.”
“Good night Sansa. I’ll be in your father's solar finishing your maiden’s cloak
with Septa Mordane. If you come up with any other question you know where to
find me, but you should try to sleep. It will be a long day,” Her mother said
smiling warmly, stroking over her hair.
“Yes, mother.”
Her mother left the room closing the door behind her and Sansa buried her face
in the pillow closing her eyes, listening to the sound of the waves hitting the
rocks beneath the castle.
Sansa listened for a while, but sleep wouldn’t come.
Her thoughts were cycling around her future husband and what would await her
with him tomorrow.
Tomorrow I’ll be a married woman, but what if he doesn’t like me, Sansa
thought. I never asked him if he likes me, Sansa realized in panic.
She got out of bed and grabbed her cloak after putting on her slipper.
Sansa went down to her father’s solar and just wanted to knock on the heavy oak
door, she heard her mother’s voice on the other side.
“My poor darling girl, with that brute. Ned should never have agreed to that.
King or not,” she heard her mother say.
“Do you think he will hurt Sansa?” Mordane said.
“You know the reputation of his brother. Several dead wives within a few years
and Ned told me what the Mountain had done to princess Elia and her children.
You really think I would want his brother near my daughter, least married to
her?”
“No, my lady.”
“Maybe Sansa will have a son soon enough and he will leave her alone.”
Sansa felt her heart race. Clegane had always been kind to her. He had told her
about his scars.
But her mother obviously seemed to be convince he will hurt her.
Sansa turned around and walked back towards her room, but suddenly she crossed
the courtyard towards the keep and ultimately found herself in front of
Clegane’s room.
Her heart was racing as she softly knocked on the door. She pulled her cloak
tighter around herself while she waited and just as she wanted to knock again,
the door opened a gap, revealing her soon to her husband’s face.
“Little bird, it’s late what are you doing here? Do your father and mother know
you are here?”, he asked with his rasping voice.
“No, but I needed to talk to you before we marry tomorrow,” Sansa said.
“What is it girl?”
Sansa bit her lips and didn’t know how to ask him the best way. What if he
would be insulted by her question?
“I heard rumors and they keep me from sleeping,” Sansa carefully said and
watched his face for a reaction.
“What did you hear?” he asked and Sansa couldn’t determine his reaction.
“I heard you will…I don’t know how to say it…,” Sansa said, but was interrupted
by Clegane.
“Spit it out girl,” he rasped not unkind.
“I heard rumors about the fate of your brother’s wives and I heard people say
you will hurt me just like him,” she said quickly and felt her legs shake.
She cast her eyes down on the floor and waited for his answer, but she lifted
them when he stayed quiet, fearing the worst.
“Will…will you hurt me?” she asked and hoped he would answer her.
Clegane simply looked at her, but his facial expression as softening with every
moment.
“No little bird, I won’t hurt you,” he softly rasped and held out his hand.
Sansa hesitantly took it and he gently squeezed it.
“I am not a man of oaths, but I will give an oath tomorrow to protect you and I
won’t hurt you,” he softly spoke and Sansa nodded.
“Now off to bed with you, before they think you improper for coming here,” he
said chuckling.
“Sleep well, my lord,” Sansa said and curtsied before she hurried back to her
room.
Nobody had noticed her leaving the Tower of the Hand close to the hour of the
wolf.
She entered her room and slipped back under the blanket, after putting her
cloak over the chair at her nightstand.
Sansa took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
He said he won’t hurt me and he isn’t a liar, she thought just before she fell
asleep.
***** Sandor *****
Chapter Notes
     Its time for a wedding!
Sandor hadn’t slept much. He had stared at the ceiling for hours until the
bells rang in the tower to wake up the servants to prepare the breakfast.
Today is the day, Sandor thought. This still sounds like a bad jape.
He had never thought to marry at all and now he was about to marry a beautiful
highborn maiden from the North in a few hours by the will of the King.
He wasn’t nervous about the wedding itself. He couldn’t forget the little
bird´s words last night.
She must be scared of me if she gathered the courage to ask me in the middle of
the night before we wed, if I am going to hurt her.
How can this marriage work if she is already scared of you before you are wed?
he thought to himself, rubbing his face.
How scared will she then be if she has to endure my face for the rest of her
life?
“Fuck me,” Sandor muttered to himself as he sat up and stretched his limbs
before he finally left his bed.
He went to the bathing house to wash. While he crossed the courtyard, he saw
servants erecting large tents for the feast later.
King Robert had given order that the daughter of his best friend would have a
feast large enough to a royal wedding.
Sandor already hated the attention he would get today. All people starring at
him, whispering behind his back how unworthy he was of Sansa and what a poor
girl she was to be stuck with him.
He washed his hair and told himself he would ignore them all for Sansa’s sake.
This was her day.
Sansa probably had always thought her wedding day to be the best day of her
life. If Sandor wasn’t the husband of her dreams he would at least make sure
the day would make up for that.
As he crossed the courtyard again he saw Lord Stark’s guard spare on the
training field. Some of them interrupted their training when he walked past
them and Sandor nodded to them.
He had sparred the last few weeks with them and he had to acknowledge that they
all were well trained soldiers. Especially to the usual men he spared against.
Mostly knights thinking they could gain a name for themselves if they defeated
the Hound.
The Northmen thought, didn’t train to gain glory or a name for themselves.
Least to get knighthood someday.
They simply trained to be up to the task of protecting Lord Stark and his
family.
While Sandor had spared with them it was clear to him that the guards were
clearly testing him, to make sure he was up to the task of protecting the
eldest daughter of their lord.
Sandor wasn’t mad about it. He was impressed by the loyalty the men showed
towards the family they were serving.
Most soldiers simply served from pay to pay and weren’t more loyal than they
had to be.
But these men…if they would ever notice that Sansa was mistreated by him, they
would all clearly challenge him without the blink of an eye, to give the little
bird justice.
He returned to his room, where his clothes were already waiting for him.
Gendry had sent his personal tailor to him a few weeks ago.
The prince had assured him the clothes would make Sandor look stunning for his
young bride.
The prince really was the closest person he would consider a friend. Sandor was
even a little sad that he wouldn’t stay Gendry´s shield.
I exchange a friend for a wife, he thought amused, while he put on his new
quilted tunic, made of yellow and black fabric.
After he had finished dressing, he looked at himself in the mirror. He had to
admit that he looked better than ever before in his new clothes.
With a different face, I would be considered handsome, he thought slightly
bitter as he combed his hair over the bad side of his face, so the scars were
at least hidden the slightest bit from the little bird´s view.
He was just done, when the bells rang to signal for everyone to make their way
to the Great Sept of Baelor.
Sandor grabbed his cloak from his chest, where all his belongings were stored.
He touched the three embroidered yellow hounds and took a deep breath before he
fastened it around his shoulders.
Now it begins, Sandor thought as he went to the stables, where his squire Brad
had already prepared Stranger, his loyal black beast.
Brad had already led Stranger outside and the King was just mounting his own
horse, while Cersei and her children entered their palanquin.
“Great day, don’t you think Clegane?” the King asked japing.
“Indeed, your majesty,” Sandor said and mounted his own horse.
Sandor turned around once and overlooked the courtyard once more for Lord Stark
and his wife. They weren't there and would travel shortly after the rest to the
sept.
He rode down the Dragon's Way, while thousands of peasants cheered for the
King, who clearly enjoyed the love of the smallfolk.
As they reached the King's Square the procession turned left and rode past the
guildhall of the Alchemists until they reached the Great Sept of Baelor.
Sandor could feel the blood rush through his ears as he dismounted his horse
and handed it to Brad who had accompanied the procession along all the other
squires.
Cersei Lannister had just left her palanquin and went inside the sept without
giving her husband a second glance, who just was assisted with dismounting his
horse by his squire Lancel Lannister.
The King came over to him and clapped his shoulder.
“Don’t look this sour Clegane. You should be a happy man. You marry the
beautiful daughter of my friend. All men here will envy you of your young
bride,” he said laughing in his booming voice.
“Aye your majesty,” Sandor simply said following the King into the sept, where
most rows were already filled with the knights, ladies and lordlings who were
part of the court.
Robert obviously wanted this to be a large spectacle, so everybody could see
how he rewarded his savior.
Left and right of the entrance stood the banners of House Stark and Clegane.
Sandor felt hundreds of eyes on him as he walked down the aisle towards the
High Septon, who was already waiting in front of the huge rich colored window,
displaying the seven-pointed star of the Seven. The sunlight flooded through
the window and made every color of the glass shine intensely.
“Now only the bride is missing,” The High Septon japed as Sandor reached him.
Sandor didn’t tell him to bugger off, but simply turned around and watched the
crowd who was chatting, while they waited for the bride to arrive.
The royal family was standing on the left side of the aisle from his point of
view.
King Robert stood in the middle of the front row, right of him was Cersei, with
a sour look on her face, while Joffrey next to her looked smug and arrogant.
Myrcella and Tommen were simply smiling. Myrcella had her hair braided in the
same manner as her mother.
Sandor had never liked this southern hairstyle.
Left of Robert stood Gendry in his dashing black tunic, with the crown stag
stitched with golden thread on his chest.
Left of him stood his betrothed, the little bird´s sister, in a dress, made of
grey silk, her hair braided in a simple, probably northern manner. She looked
slightly uncomfortable in her own skin, wearing a dress for once. Sandor had
often seen her run around in the Red Keep with breeches and tunic, rather than
dresses. Her septa stood behind her.
Left of the little wolf stood his future mother in law in a finely crafted blue
dress. Her auburn hair cascading down her back.
Sandor had only spoken once with Lady Catelyn, welcoming her after she arrived
in the capital. He knew he had to do a lot of work to win over his to-be mother
in law.
Left of Lady Catelyn was an empty place for her husband.
In the second row behind the King stood his brothers.
Renly had his smug smile, he often displayed in court, while Stannis looked as
stern and brooding as ever. Lady Selyse next to him wasn’t smiling, but looked
annoyed.
Shireen though was smiling kindly at him. Sandor had always liked Shireen.
Maybe it was because she wasn’t spoiled like Joffrey, but a kind girl. Maybe he
felt connected to her because of her Greyscale marks.
On the other side of the aisle stood the members of the small council. Pycelle
looked like he would fall asleep at any moment, while Varys was simply
listening to the titter around him.
Littlefinger on the other hand didn’t look happy. To see Littlefinger unhappy
satisfied Sandor in an odd way.
The crowd became silent when the doors of the sept opened and his bride entered
the sept holding the arm of her father. Six of Lord Stark’s guards followed
them, but stopped at top of the stairs that led down to the aisle, where the
guests were waiting left and right.
Sandor´s mouth fell slightly agape when he saw Sansa in her magnificent white
and grey dress.
The time seemed to slow down, as he watched his bride come down the aisle
towards him.
Her auburn hair was shining like copper and it was braided in a more delicate
northern manner.
When she came closer he saw that blue winter roses have been woven into the
braids, making her the personified bride of winter.
His mouth felt dry and he had to remind himself to not stare at the little bird
like a fool.
As she was just a few meters away from him he noticed that she was wearing the
necklace he had gifted her and that she was shyly looking at him through her
leashes. He thought that he saw a small smile playing around her lips.
Don’t fool yourself dog, he reminded himself.
Lord Stark came up the steps to where Sandor and the High Septon were waiting,
with his daughter on his arm.
Sandor nodded to Lord Stark lightly and he nodded back. Sandor couldn’t really
interpret his facial expression though.
Sansa's father gently placed her hand in his and took a few steps back after he
gave his daughter a last kiss on the cheek.
“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection,” the High
Septon declared and Sansa's father stepped forward again to unfasten her
maiden’s cloak.
Lord Stark folded it and walked down the stairway, to take his place next to
his wife.
Sansa turned her back to him and Sandor unfastened her cloak, before gently
putting it around her shoulder.
Sandor squeezed her shoulders lightly to indicate that she could turn around
again.
He had to swallow as she looked at him with her huge blue eyes.
“Your Grace, my lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to
witness the union of man and wife,” the High Septon said as he tied their hands
together with a red silk ribbon.
“One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. Look upon each other and say
the words.”
Sansa and Sandor turned to face each other and he had a hard time not to drown
in her blue eyes.
Sansa started with the vow and Sandor followed her a second later.
“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am his and he is
mine, from this day until the end of my days.”
“You may now kiss your bride to seal this marriage in the light of the Seven
and pledge your love to your wife,” the High Septon said and Sandor carefully
cupped her face with his left palm, while he leaned down and shortly pressed
his lips against hers.
He didn’t want to drag the kiss out, since she probably didn’t want to kiss him
anyway, but for a tiny moment he had thought that Sansa had tried to deepen the
kiss.
He lightly held her hand as they turned around to the crowd, who started to
applaud, while Sandor shortly glanced over to his wife and he was glad that
Sansa was smiling.
                                      ***
The ride back to the Red Keep was accompanied by the cheering of the smallfolk
on both sides of the streets they had to pass.
Sansa was riding in her own palanquin, while Sandor rode his horse.
The whole way back he could only think about Sansa’s lips and how they had felt
against his.
When they passed the gates, the courtyards were already crowded with servants
already setting the tables for the feast.
Sandor rode to the stables, where he got off of his horse and handed the reins
to Brad, before he went back to where the feast was to be held.
Many guests had already taken their seats within the dozen pavilions that had
been erected.
Sandor and Sansa were given the seats of honor at the high table, while the
royal family sat on a long table right in front of the high table, while the
Stark family sat on the opposite side of the royal table, left of Sandor´s
seat.
Sandor arrived at his seat just in the moment when his bride did. He helped her
to take her seat, by pulling out the chair.
“Thank you, my Lord,” his bride said kindly, taking her seat.
The servants brought cups with wine and King Robert stood up from his seat and
raised his cup.
“To my oldest friend’s beautiful daughter and to her fierce husband,” he said
in his booming voice and everyone raised their cups for the toast.
“Let’s feast and drink until the winter comes,” the King voice thundered
laughing through the air and the crowd started to cheer, while the servants
served the first course.
Sandor hadn’t planned anything about this feast. Lord Stark had asked him on
behalf of his daughter if he wanted anything specific during the feast. Sandor
had only asked for dornish red and told his now father in law that the little
bird could do all the planning for the feast the way she wanted it.
“Is the wine to your liking, my Lord?” the little bird peeped up next to him
after he took a sip.
“It is,” Sandor simply rasped. “You really outdone yourself with the feast,” he
added and Sansa blushed, looking down at her plate.
“Is it to your liking too, little bird?” he asked and wanted to touch her hand
that lied on the table plate, but didn’t dare with so many eyes on them.
“It is my Lord. Thank you for asking.”
One courtesy after another, Sandor thought. Her septa and mother have taught
her well for today.
Sandor didn’t say anything further but took a sip of his wine.
The servants started to serve the first course, while some musicians started to
play.
The first course of a creamy leek soup was only a small portion. Luckily the
second course consisted of venison roast with all kinds of side dishes and
heavy gravy.
After the main course had been finished the dance started and prince Gendry
opened the dance with his betrothed.
Sandor swallowed and gathered his courage before he turned to his wife.
You can do it Sandor, he told himself. If Gendry was dancing with his betrothed
who obviously wasn’t the most skilled dancer, he could certainly ask his wife.
“You want to dance, little bird?”, he asked and he was taken aback when his
wife smiled up happily.
“Of course,” Sansa said smiling and they went to the dance floor, where several
other Lords and Ladies were already dancing.
Sandor tried his best, but he sometimes made the wrong steps. His wife though
didn’t seem to care or be bothered by it.
After they had finished dancing they returned to their place and Sandor told
her she could continue to dance with everyone she wanted, if she liked.
He sipped his wine while he watched Sansa dancing with several young lordlings,
before she danced with prince Gendry and her father after him.
Sandor ground his teeth, when he saw Joffrey asking her to dance and whispered
to her while dancing.
After they had finished the dance, Sansa returned to her seat next to him and
refused everyone who asked her to dance after that. He would ask her later what
that little shit had told her.
The servants came all the time to refill the cups of the guests and Robert was
drunkenly yelling sons.
The music stopped when Lord Stark rose from his seat, to give the speech in
honor of his daughter and when he had finished the servants started to bring
countless plates filled with piles of lemon cakes.
The little bird smiled widely while she put three down on her plate, licking
the sweet frosting of her fingers and blushed lightly when she noticed that he
was watching her.
His wife obviously loved these little sweet treats. Sandor was more for hearty
meals, but his wife obviously had a sweet tooth.
The sun had already begun to go down and the last light made the stone of the
Red Keep shine like it was painted in blood.
Servants began to light torches and candles, when the crowd became quiet, as
someone clapped loud with his hands.
When Sandor turned to the crowd he saw that Joffrey had risen from the royal
table, with a smug smile around his wormy lips.
What does this little shit plan? Sandor asked himself and looked to Gendry who
was frowning at his half-brother.
“It’s getting late my Lord and Ladies and we have celebrated the wedding of my
former shield and my father’sbest friend's daughter. But they aren’t yet man
and wife,” Joffrey declared excited.
“Joffrey…” Gendry warned him.
Gendry had told Sandor a few days before the wedding he would make sure no
bedding ceremony would be held if he didn’t like it. Sandor had always hated
the concept of the bedding ceremony. Why did the nobles make such a fuss about
the modesty of their women, if they then allowed everyone to grope and undress
them during the bedding ceremony?
“The bedding ceremony!” Joffrey called and the crowd yelled and cheered.
“Yes, the bedding!” Robert roared piss drunk and tried to get up from his chair
to obviously partake, not caring that it was his best friend’s daughter.
“Ladies, take my former dog to his kennel!” Joffrey declared excited and about
a dozen ladies started to pull him out of his seat, while at least twenty Lords
pulled the little bird from her seat.
Sandor felt his blood start to boil at this sight, but at least he saw that
Gendry and the commander of Lord Starks guards were within the crowd. Hopefully
they would make sure the bedding ceremony didn’t go too far.
Sandor would have liked to spare Sansa the bedding ceremony, but now this
little shit had started it and they had to go through with it.
Sandor tried to play along as good as he could, while these high-born bitches
around him were tittering how well he was build and what a wild beast he must
be between the sheets, when they all call him the Hound.
Meanwhile some tried to pull his tunic off of him, but they only managed to
unbutton some of it, when they had already reached the room in the top floor of
the Tower of the Hand, where they had been given a temporary room for the
night.
“End of the bedding for you,” he growled as he opened the door. “Now back to
you cocks you hens before I decide to get some chicken as extra dessert.”
The women faked to be scandalized and quickly left him alone in the room, when
he already heard the male part of the bedding ceremony come up the stairway.
The door opened Gendry appeared in the doorway putting down Sansa in the room
before nodding to him with an apologizing expression on his face.
Sandor locked the door after the prince left and he heard Gendry ordering the
other Lords and knights to leave.
Sandor turned to his wife to check on her and felt relieved that most of her
dress was still intact.
Her braids had loosened a bit, but all winter roses were still in place. Also,
her sleeve was ripped a little, but the rest was still whole.
“I hope none of those buggers were rough to you, little bird,” he asked her.
“No, my Lord. The prince and Jory made sure they mostly only did their japes,”
Sansa said.
“Good. I didn’t want to have a bedding ceremony in the first place.”
Sandor was glad that the prince and Jory Cassel had prevented the bedding from
escalating, like it sometimes happened.
Jory was a good man. After he had chaperoned them with Sansa´s septa during
their stroll weeks ago, Sandor had asked him if Lord Stark feared for his
daughter’s safety, when he was with her. Jory had told him that it was rather
to his protection, since Littlefinger had apparently made an innuendo to Lord
Stark after a meeting of the small council that the betrothal could be
loosened, if necessary by force, if that’s what Lord Stark wanted.
His father in law obviously distrusts Littlefinger as much as Sandor did.
He had, later that same day, shown Jory on the training field that he was more
than capable of defending himself and the little bird, from all dangers.
So now he was here.
Married. To the most beautiful woman he knew.
His wife was simply standing in the room looking around wringing her hands, not
knowing what came now.
Sandor went to the table and poured them both a cup of wine, before handing one
to Sansa.
“Thank you, my Lord.”
“Please stop with your courtesies. Your septa must have schooled you well, but
we are married and you should use my name.”
“Yes, my lor…Sandor. How do we continue Sandor?” she asked, the uncertainty
clearly in her soft voice.
“I guess your mother and septa have explained what usually happens between
husband and wife during their wedding night,” he said taking a sip of his wine.
Sansa nodded lightly and grabbed the cup a little tighter.
“Lord and Lady have to share the bed, to consummate their marriage and validate
it in the eyes of the gods,” Sansa obviously recited her septa´s lessons.
“There is much more to that,” Sandor said.
“I know that there is more to it,” Sansa said and he saw that she blushed even
more with every second that passed. “It is my duty to give you heirs and my
mother explained to me what needs to be done to achieve that.”
The whole time during her little speech she couldn’t look him in the eyes.
“You look pretty when you blush,” Sandor said and Sansa shyly raised her eyes.
“Thank you, my L…Sandor.”
“Such a fine Lady you are and the King decides to give you to me, somebody not
nearly worthy enough of you. You should have your handsome prince rather than
an old dog like me,” he said and refilled his cup.
“You shouldn’t speak about yourself that way, my lord,” Sansa said. “And I
don’t want to marry a prince anymore,” she quietly added.
Sandor gestured her to take a seat at the table and he refilled her cup, before
sitting down himself.
“You seemed to be very fond of Joffrey at first, if I remember correctly.”
“I was, but I had to see that he isn’t like the princes or brave knights in the
songs and stories. He showed his cowardice and cruel side often enough to me,
but it took me some time to see it. You on the other hand…”
“What about me little bird? Tell me,” he rasped not unkind.
“You made me speak the truth that protected my wolf, while Joffrey wouldn’t
have cared if she got killed. And you showed more bravery than every knight in
this city when you protected our King. You aren’t the mean person, I get told
about all the time and you told me you won’t hurt me and I…and I hope you mean
it.”
Sandor was taken aback by her words. She was smarter than she allowed everyone
to see.
“I meant it little bird. I won’t hurt you,” he said and sighed. “You are
beautiful, you know that? And I desire you. Does this scare you?” He said.
Sansa didn’t give an answer.
“It definitely scares me, little bird,” he said and she looked up to meet his
eyes.
“You are still young and I never expected to have a wife, after all who would
marry a face like mine. I was nervous about today, because I don’t want to fuck
this up. I don’t even know why I am able to tell you all of this. You move
something in me and I want to be the best husband possible for you.”
Sansa emptied her cup and put it down on the table, pushing it away from her
lightly.
“And I want to be the best lady wife,” Sansa said.
Sandor drank the rest of the wine in his cup, before putting it down on the
table next to hers. The sound of the feast below the courtyard still sounded
through the window.
“You know, what everyone down there expects us to do now,” he said warmly and
Sansa nodded getting up from her chair.
“Shall I undress or would you like to undress me, my lord?” Sansa asked and
Sandor ignored that she went back to her formal self.
He suspected it helped her when she was nervous and she certainly was nervous
now.
“I guess you need help with your dress anyway,” he said and gestured her to
turn around.
“Your dress is beautiful Sansa,” he said as he started to undo the laces on her
back.
“Thank you,” she said and instead of pushing it down her shoulders he gently
turned her around.
“The laces are loose. There is a dressing screen if you want to use it,” he
told her and gestured the screen, where servants had already put her nightgown
over its edge.
Sansa walked over to the large bed, holding her gown together with her hands.
Sandor followed her and unbuttoned his tunic throwing it back to his chair.
Sansa slowly pushed her dress off her shoulder, after a tiny moment of
hesitation, until it pooled around her feet. She turned around to him, wearing
only a thin grey silken shift, that clearly showed the swell of her breasts
underneath.
Sandor’s mouth felt dry and he already felt his breeches become uncomfortably
tight.
He got rid of his boots, while Sansa sat down on the edge of the bed and got
rid of her own shoes, before she pulled down her woolen stockings.
Sansa loosened her braids and put every single winter rose on the night table
next to the bed. Her auburn hair cascaded down her back.
Sandor decided to turn around while he untied the laces of his breeches and he
heard Sansa pulled back the blanket and got under it.
Only wearing his own smallclothes, he turned around and saw that Sansa had
pulled the blanket up to her chin. She dropped something on the other side of
the bed and Sandor expected it to be her own small clothes.
The thought alone that his wife was now lying nearly naked in his bed let him
harden even more.
Sandor tried to meet Sansa's eyes, but she only had eyes for the large bulge in
his small clothes.
He sighed.
“I can’t. I mean I obviously could,” Sandor said looking down at the bulge.
“But I won’t.”
“But it’s our duty to consummate this marriage,” she said frowning.
“It is, but it doesn’t have to happen tonight. Little bird listen. I want you
to trust me and I won’t win your trust by hurting you now, if I take your
maidenhead tonight. We will wait until you know me more and don’t fear sharing
the bed with me.”
“I don’t fear to do my duty, but…” she started, but bit her lip to stop.
“But what Sansa?” he asked and stroked her cheek with his index finger.
“They will check the sheets tomorrow and when they see that there isn’t blood
to prove that we…you know…did it, they will titter and I don’t want to be the
laughingstock of the court and for Joffrey.”
“What has Joffrey to do with that?” he asked and was sure he would already hate
the answer Sansa would give him.
“He told me stories about you and told me earlier today that you…that you,” she
whispered and blushed in embarrassment.
“That I what?”
“That you will show me what a Hound will do to a wolf and that you will take me
like a bitch.”
“That little shit. Somebody should have killed that little bastard years ago,”
he angrily rasped, but he quickly calmed down again.
“I won’t hurt you little bird and I won’t mistreat you.”
Sandor got up from the bed and pulled out a small dagger he always hid in his
right boot.
“Don’t be scared of the dagger, I won’t hurt you. I will spare us the
tittering,” he explained. “Can you move a little?”
Sansa moved a little and Sandor cut his left thumb.
He held it over the sheet and squeezed his thumb until several large stains of
blood soaked the clean sheet.
Sandor dripped some more blood on the sheet and smudged it to make it seem
natural.
“There, that should do for everyone,” he said, but Sansa looked uncertain.
“And what shall I tell my mother or anyone, when they ask me?”
“Simply tell them, what they told you it would be like,” he said.
Sansa nodded and looked at him with huge eyes.
“Will you come to bed now?”
“If you want me to?”
“You are my husband and your place is by my side,” Sansa said and Sandor got
between the sheets.
They simply laid next to each other in silence staring at the canopy, until
Sansa yawned next to him.
“You should try to sleep, little bird. It has been a long day.”
“Can you hold me?” she quietly asked and Sandor reached out to her.
She snuggled up to him and her sweet smell surrounded him.
“Good night, Sansa.”
“Good night, my lor…Sandor. Good night Sandor.”
***** Sansa *****
Chapter Notes
     Merry Christmas!
Sansa awoke after a restful night and immediately felt someone's breath next to
her.
She slowly opened her eyes and saw the face of her husband, still asleep, in
the morning light.
Sansa had already awoken once a few hours ago, just as the first light had lit
up the horizon, snuggled up in her husband´s arms.
Sansa had felt her face heat up at being that close to him. She obviously had
snuggled up to him during sleep without noticing.
Sansa didn’t know if it was the usual behavior of a lady, so she had carefully
untangled herself from his arms and continued to sleep until now.
She watched her husband’s features closely, while his breath made his chest
lift and sink rhythmically.
His scars were lit up by the morning sun and looked leathery. Sansa felt the
urge to touch them. Are they hurting him? She asked herself, but didn’t dare to
touch them, even if she had already reached out a little.
“What are you dreaming of Sandor?” Sansa silently breathed.
Sandor was an enigma for her. He was always nice and kind to her. But at the
same time, she had heard several times that he was dangerous and cruel like his
brother.
First by her mother to Septa Mordane two days ago. Sansa had convinced herself
that her mother was just overreacting to the sudden developments of her
wedding.
But when Joffrey had told her yesterday during the feast that all of King´s
Landing would hear her scream when the Hound would take his bitch, her
confidence had crumbled to dust.
All the time during the bedding ceremony she had tried to recall her mother´s
and Septa´s lessons about the duty of a wife to calm her nerves, but the japes
of the men pulling and ripping on her dress hadn’t helped in any way.
Especially one jape from an older lord, who had suggested that the Hound should
try to make his wolf howl had only further fueled her fears what was awaiting
her in her wedding night.
And when she finally had been alone with her husband he had not forced her,
even if his desire had been clearly visible to her eyes. Her mother had
explained to her that it would probably hurt to give her husband her maiden’s
gift, but that Sandor saw it as betrayal to his promise to not hurt her, had
honestly surprised her.
He now had all rights to do with her whatever he desired. The Seven-Pointed
Star was clear about the wife's duties to her husband and his rights in
marriage.
Sansa had learned these parts of the holy book of the Seven with Septa Mordane
already when she had just learned to read. Even before she got to read her
beloved stories of knighthood and brave princes.
She had met her prince. He had been handsome at first, but in the end, he had
tried to hurt her every time he had the chance.
The last time had been yesterday. It was obvious that Sandor didn’t approve of
yesterday’s bedding ceremony and that Joffrey had only called for it to shame
her.
Sansa had always thought the bedding to be something mysterious and exciting in
the tales, but in reality, she had hated every moment of it.
Sandor’s lips twitched lightly on the burned side, while he slept and Sansa had
to smile a little. She had never noticed that before.
“I will get to know you husband. I already trust you that you won’t hurt me.
You already proved that. You might think that you are unworthy of me, but I
think you are brave,” she whispered and stroked one strand of his black hair
out of his face and he hummed.
A small smile played around Sansa's mouth.
“My knight in a dented armor,” she breathed.
“I am no knight, little bird,” Sandor said with still closed eyes and Sansa
felt herself blush at the thought that her husband might had heard her words.
“Good morning, Lord husband.”
Sandor reached out and gently stroked her cheek with his index finger.
“Good morning, wife.”
Sansa suddenly noticed the bulge in his smallclothes.
“Yo…you know we could still…you know…do it. I am ready to do my duty,” Sansa
said quietly still looking at the bulge in his smallclothes.
“No, I told you we wait,” Sandor said as he got out of bed to put on his
breeches.
Gods, he is built like the warrior, Sansa thought as she watched her husband’s
body. She bit her lower lips and felt herself blush once more, as her eyes were
traveling over his broad chest, covered with hair.
Sandor put on his tunic and Sansa felt a strange feeling between her thighs,
like a longing she never had felt before.
“You should dress too, little bird,” Sandor said. “If I recall correctly your
mother wanted to break her fast with you today.”
Sansa´s mother had mentioned it yesterday and Sansa had nearly forgotten about
it.
“And what shall I tell her if she asks, if we…if we…you know,” Sansa blushed
again speaking the words.
Sandor came over to her side of the bed and pointed to the red stains on the
otherwise white sheet.
“We have consummated for everyone´s eyes. If your mother or anyone else asks
you will have to lie to them. They all expect that you aren’t a maiden after
your wedding night.”
Sansa heart beat rapidly. How was she supposed to lie to her mother, if she
couldn’t even talk about it with her husband without blushing furiously?
“And what shall I tell her?” Sansa asked again.
“What did your mother or your bloody septa tell you?”
“That…that it would probably hurt…and that you would have to put your…your…and
that when you are done I would be soon be praised with a son for you.”
Sandor sighed.
“Just tell them what they want to hear and let the bloody sheet speak for
itself,” he said and got Sansa´s morning gown from the dressing screen.
“Thank you,” Sansa said kindly and put her gown on, after Sandor turned around
to give her privacy.
There was a moment of awkward silence between them and both didn’t know how to
break it.
“So,” Sandor started a little awkward. “Is there something you want to do
today?”
“I need to brush out Lady´s fur. It’s been too long since I did it,” Sansa
said. “You could accompany me if you like. She needs to meet you,” she
continued excited. “But…but only if you don’t have other duties to attend,” she
added shyly.
“I can accompany you. I don’t have any duties anymore. My service to Prince
Gendry ended in the moment we said our vows. And now I am my own dog again,
with no master holding the leash.”
Sansa didn’t like that he called himself a dog, like so many obviously did.
“You are no dog Sandor and I don’t like when you call yourself that way,” Sansa
said, but wasn’t sure if she was to bold in this moment. She had learned a wife
shouldn’t tell her husband what to do.
“I just meant…” Sansa started after Sandor didn’t say anything at first, but
was interrupted by him.
“If my wife doesn’t like it I will try to not do it anymore,” he said
chuckling. “I will come to pick you up, after you have broken your fast. I need
to tend to my horse, or he will bite off the nose of some buggering stable
boy.”
Before Sansa had the chance to answer he was already gone.
Sansa smiled to herself, as she sat down at the dressing table and started to
brush out her hair.
He really is trying to be a good husband if he agreed that quickly to try not
talk to him in that degrading way anymore, Sansa thought as she looked at
herself in the silver mirror.
A maidservant knocked on the door and asked if she could enter.
After Sansa allowed it, the servant asked her if she wanted to break her feast
and needed something.
Sansa told her to bring hot water to wash and help her dress after that.
The maid got the sheets from the bed and bowed before leaving. Sansa lowered
her eyes. She couldn’t look at the young maidservant in the face, while she
held the proof of what she and Sandor had done last night. Or what they hadn’t
done last night to be honest, Sansa thought.
The maidservant returned shortly after she left and Sansa washed herself before
the servant helped her dress.
 
                                      ***
 
“Sansa, my darling daughter,” her mother breathed and got up the dining table,
as soon as Sansa entered the room.
Her mother hugged her tightly and gently rubbed her back.
“My brave big girl,” her mother whispered.
Septa Mordane and Arya were sitting at the table.
“No need to make such a fuss,” Arya said spooning her porridge. “She looks just
like yesterday.”
If you knew how right you are, Sansa thought.
“I am fine mother.”
Sansa sat down at the table after her mother loosened her embrace.
They broke their fast with light talk about yesterday’s wedding feast and how
all the women of court had envied Sansa´s beauty.
Arya rolled her eyes most of the times, but when Sansa mentioned how pretty
Arya had looked in her dress she had blushed against her will and embarrassed
looked down on her plate.
“I think it’s time for your lessons,” Sansa´s mother said to Arya, and Septa
Mordane raised from her chair.
“But why?” Arya complained and begrudgingly got up from his chair.
“Because I have to talk to your sister,” her mother said sternly and Arya left
with Septa Mordane.
Sansa folder her hands on her lap while her mother poured them both a new cup
of tea.
Her lady mother sat down and turned a little towards her, before taking Sansa's
hands in hers.
“My little girl a married woman,” she said smiling and Sansa smiled back at
her.
“I still remember when you were born. Your father was so happy that the bells
rung a whole day and a night. You were the child that made the love grow
between your father and me. After all he was a stranger when we married. The
unknown brother of my first betrothed. Your father married me out of duty to
get the swords of my father for Robert’s war. I didn’t love your father when we
married and neither did I when your brother was born and your father returned
with the child of another woman from the war. You were what laid the foundation
of our love.”
Sansa smiled at her mother’s words. She had never heard that story before. The
love between her mother and father had always seemed to be present.
“I was a bride with a stranger in my bedding chamber, but your father was good
to me when I gave him my maidenhood,” her mother said and gently stroked the
back of Sansa's hand. “Was your husband good to you, daughter? It doesn’t
happen often that a mother has the chance to ask her daughter, since most of
the time they wed far away from home, without a mother to sooth their fears.”
Sansa swallowed and her mother seemed to notice that.
“Was he good to you Sansa?” Her mother asked, looking at her searching.
“He was good to me, mother, and he was gentle to me.”
“Was he?”
“Y…yes, of course…why shouldn’t he?” Sansa asked nervous. “It hurt when he took
my maidenhead with his…just like you and Septa Mordane told me it would,” she
added feeling her face blush horrible.
Her mother eyed her closely, but Sansa couldn’t meet her eyes.
“You haven’t done it, have you?” her mother asked.
“Of course, we have, the sheet proves it,” Sansa said.
“That doesn’t prove anything,” her mother argued. “I ask you again. Did you two
do your duty?”
Sansa lightly shook her head and felt tears well in her eyes. Would Sandor be
mad at her for not have lied properly.
“Are you disappointed mother?” Sansa asked carefully.
“No, it’s not your fault. You are dutiful,” her mother said and got up to leave
the room, but when she opened the door, Sandor already stood on the other side.
“Lady Stark, your daughter asked me to accomp…” Sandor started, but her mother
interrupted him.
“Is my daughter not to your liking? Is that it? Or are you simply too used to
tavern wenches that you cast aside my daughter?” her mother accused him,
slamming the door close after he had entered the room.
Sandor looked over to Sansa and she looked down at her lap. She didn’t want to
see his disappointment in her.
“Is this about last night Lady Stark?” Sandor asked in his raspy voice.
“Of course, it is! You were given the finest bride in the Seven Kingdoms,
worthy of becoming a queen and instead she is married to you and you don’t
value her enough to give her the chance to be blessed with a child!” her mother
yelled at him.
“Is that what you want me to do? Put a child in her? You would rather have me
rape your daughter in her wedding night, than give her time until she isn’t
scared anymore?” Sansa´s husband threw back at her mother.
“My daughter isn’t scared.”
“She was when she came to my door the evening before our wedding. I saw the
same fear yesterday, so bugger what you think of me. I would rather have my
wife not fear me. I made an oath to protect her, not hurt her,” Sandor said and
her mother turned to her.
“Why did you go to him before the wedding?” Her mother asked her.
“I overheard what you said about Sandor to Septa Mordane, when I wanted to ask
you another question,” Sansa explained shyly. “It unsettled me I had to ask him
and yesterday…”
“What yesterday?” her mother asked her.
“The men…during the bedding…” Sansa started, but Sandor continued.
“The men and Joffrey scared her with stories what would happen to her during
her wedding night.”
“Is this true Sansa?”
Sansa nodded.
“Ohh, my sweet daughter,” her mother said and hugged her.
“Lord Clegane, I apologize for being that harsh with you. I was not mad because
I want you to force yourself on my daughter. I simply know that it would damage
my daughter’s reputation should anyone ever hear of it. I guess you know how
the world works and people talk, one wrong word a chamber maid hears and it is
public knowledge. I don’t want my daughter to become known as the girl the
Hound rejected. But I guess that’s the reason why you bloodied the sheets,”
Catelyn said and Sandor nodded.
“I don’t know you my lord, but there must be more to you than only your
reputation if you refuse to take your marital rights for the sake of your wife.
I will have an eye on you, but I am glad it was you last night rather than one
of these other lords.”
“I didn’t expect anything less Lady Stark, but I stand to my promise I gave
your daughter yesterday,” Sandor rasped and Sansa smiled still in her mother’s
embrace.
Lady Catelyn loosened the embrace and kissed her daughter´s cheek, before she
looked at her smiling.
“Lady Clegane, your husband came to take you, to whatever you have planned
today.”
Sansa smiled back at her mother.
“Thank you, mother,” Sansa said and curtsied before she went to her husband’s
side, who a little awkwardly held out his arm for her to take.
He is really trying to be the best husband possible, Sansa thought happily as
they walked their way down to the kennels were Lady already awaited them.
***** Sandor *****
Chapter Notes
     Last Chapter of year 2017!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Today they would leave King´s Landing and head North to start their new life in
the North.
Sandor has now been married for two weeks and he got bored with his daily
routine. When he had been prince Gendry´s shield he had his daily duties to
attend and now he kind of missed that.
His last two weeks since he had married the little bird had consisted of daily
sparring with his father in law´s guards, before taking strolls with his wife
in the gardens of the Red Keep or taking care of his stallion and his wife´s
direwolf in the afternoon, before he would attend dinners of the royal family
every evening.
Now that Lord Tyrion had finally returned from the Westerlands with his brother
and this unfortunate episode between the Lannisters and his wife’s family had
been put to rest, they could finally leave the capital.
It would be a long journey North. Sandor had expected they would travel back
north by ship, just like Lady Catelyn had done during her journey to attend the
wedding, but his mother-in-law had decided that she wanted to visit her father
in Riverrun on their way back and that it would be nice for Sansa to meet her
grandfather and uncle for the first time, since Lady Stark hadn’t taken the
chance to visit her old home, when she had traveled to King’s Landing about a
decade ago.
Sansa was excited to finally see her mother’s birthplace and so Sandor tried to
show some excitement for the journey too, even if he wasn’t excited at all.
Traveling with horse would take at least twice as long as by ship and Sansa
might ignored the laughter of the people in the court, but Sandor could hear
them laugh and snicker whisper every time they strolled past them.
The people would snicker everywhere they went during their journey.
Servants had just carried his and Sansa’s belonging in several chests out of
their room and Sansa’s childhood friend Jeyne was just packing away Sansas
dresses in her cedar chest, she had gotten from her mother.
Sansa’s friend had become her new handmaiden. Lord Stark had asked his steward
if it was alright with him, that his daughter returned North to serve for the
new House Clegane.
Jeyne’s father had said it was an honor for his daughter and that he hoped she
would serve Sansa well. Sandor was glad Sansa would have her friend with her,
though that young girl seemed to be still afraid of Sandor even though Sansa
kept assuring her that he meant no harm, despite his grumpy look.
Sansa had told him that Jeyne had always gotten lessons from her father about
the duties of a steward. Sandor had given Sansa the idea that Jeyne someday
could become their steward, after their keep had been built.
Sansa had liked the idea, though it would still take some time until their new
home would be finished.
As far as Sandor knew, his wife hadn’t told her best friend that she was still
a maiden and Sandor was glad for it. Sansas friend was a gossip girl.
Sandor didn’t know though if Lord Stark knew about what they done, or rather
not done during their wedding night.
He hadn’t said anything and Sansa had asked her mother not to say anything to
her father, but Sandor wasn’t so sure if Lord Stark’s wife hadn’t told him the
truth.
But it didn’t matter if he knew or not. His thoughts seemed to be similar to
Lady Starks about the topic, even though he might did mind even less than his
wife if they really had consummated their bond.
Sandor was torn from his thoughts when Lady poked his hand with her nose, to
get his attention.
Sandor scratched Lady behind her ear and she licked his fingers with her rough
tongue.
When Sandor had met Sansa's direwolf for real the first time not long ago, the
she-wolf had welcomed him happily, as he and Sansa had entered her kennel.
Before that day Sandor had only had a few glimpses on her and otherwise had
only heard her howl in the nights sometime.
Sansa had told him she was just a bit older than one year, but Lady was already
larger than the largest hounds Sandor knew.
“You love needy creature,” Sandor said as he continued to scratch Lady’s head.
Sansa loved her direwolf and she had proudly told him how her father had said,
they could only keep them if they raised them on their own. Sansa furthermore
added that she was proud of her achievement to raise Lady to be the gentlest
and most behaved of the whole litter.
Too gentle, Sandor had thought. While Lady brought fear into the heart of men,
by her mere size, the fear quickly disappeared when she showed what a fluffy
gentle creature she was.
Because of that Sandor had used his knowledge about raising hounds, to train
Lady in secret, so she would be able to defend Sansa if he wasn’t around to do
so.
Sansa had no idea about this and he hoped that his little wife wouldn’t hear of
this.
The servants had left the room and Sandor looked around one last time, to make
sure they hadn’t forgotten anything, before he left with Lady at his side.
Maybe this would be the last time he walked through these corridors. He had
spent nearly half his life in this city and now he would leave it for good.
                                                          
                                      ***
 
In the courtyard servants were busy with packing all the chests and crates on
carts. King Robert and his two brothers were also present with Lord Stark,
alongside Lord Tyrion, Sansa’s sister and their septa, while Cersei and her
other children were nowhere to be seen.
Brad came from the stables, leading Stranger by his reins. He wouldn’t travel
north with them unfortunately. Apparently, Lord Tywin himself had ordered him
to stay in King’s Landing and not travel North. Maybe he didn’t want to see any
Lannister as servant in the North.
Sansa entered the courtyard with her mother. She was wearing one of the dresses
he had bought her last week, when they had visited several merchants in the
city, because Lady Catelyn wanted to buy several rolls of all kinds of fabrics
before traveling North.
Sandor had noticed Sansa side eying several dresses and he had bought them
without hesitation. He noticed with satisfaction how surprised his mother-in-
law had been, when he had bought them without hesitation. He hoped that would
leave a good impression on Sansa’s mother, that he wasn’t a stingy man, when it
came to his wife.
Sansa had just said goodbye to her father and sister alongside her mother,
before they said they goodbye to the King, while Sandor stood in front of his
father in law.
“Farewell Clegane, take good care of my daughter,” Lord Stark said.
“I will, Lord Hand,” he rasped and shook Lord Stark’s hand, when he offered
his.
While Sansa and her mother entered their carriage with Sansa’s friend Jeyne,
Sandor said his goodbye to the King.
Robert simply clapped his shoulder and told him he was a lucky man, to have a
bride this young and beautiful.
After that the he mounted his horse and gave Brad a small bag of gold for his
good service, before saying goodbye to his squire for a last time.
The guards Lady Catelyn had taken with her south got on their mounts and they
left the Red Keep.
They crossed the city and left the city through the Gate of the Gods when the
sun stood at its peak in the sky.
Sansa looked once back to the city out of the carriage’s window and her eyes
met his and she started to smile, before she returned inside.
 
                                                          
                                      ***
 
They had traveled about a week until they crossed the Blackwater a few miles
south of the Godseye at a small village with a stone bridge.
The journey so far hadn’t been any kind of special. They rode from morning till
evening with only one larger break during the lunch period alongside several
short breaks for the ladies.
In the evenings, they erected some tents for the women, while Sandor and the
other men slept outside.
At first the men Lady Catelyn had taken with her seemed distant to Sandor,
since they didn’t know him, like the ones Lord Stark had in the capital, but
after their leader and master at arms, Ser Rodrick, the uncle of Lord Starks
head of guards, had told him how good it was to have such a talented warrior in
the North, the other men had warmed up to him too.
Jory Cassel had obviously told his uncle about his fighting abilities and he
quickly gained the trust of the men, because even as a Lord he didn’t refuse to
take his turns during the watch at night, or was too proud to help erecting the
tent or cook the meals.
And that he was good to his wife, their beloved daughter of their lord, helped
to get their trust too.
Tonight, it was decided to make a stop in an inn located in a village, because
it seemed it was going to rain soon.
The building looked abandoned, but smoke was coming out of the chimney.
When they stopped their horses, the door opened and the innkeeper stepped
outside.
“What do you want?” he asked carefully.
“Rooms for the night and something to eat, good man. We can pay of course.” Ser
Rodrick said.
“Then come in,” the innkeeper said and disappeared inside.
Sandor thought it strange that an innkeeper was that distant when guests
arrived.
The tied up the horses and two men tended to them, while Sandor helped Sansa
and her friend out of the carriage, while Ser Rodrick helped Lady Catelyn.
They entered the inn and saw that nobody sat at the tables. Only a small fire
was burning in the chimney. The innkeeper was standing behind the counter,
while Sandor noticed a girl around Sansa’s age peaking from the kitchen door.
“How many rooms do you need?” the innkeeper asked, finally turning the
attention to them.
Ser Rodrick looked at the group before answering.
“At least four. One for Lady Catelyn. One for Lord and Lady Clegane and one for
her handmaiden. And the men and I will take another.”
Sandor noticed how the girl in the kitchen tensed when Ser Rodrick mentioned
his name.
“Alright. My daughter will prepare food. I hope roasted chicken and ale are
good enough for you.”
“It’s alright,” Lady Catelyn said. “Let’s sit down, it’s been a long day and we
still have a long journey ahead of us.”
“Yes, my lady,” Ser Rodrick said and they all took their seats.
The girls came and filled their cups with ale and basically ran back to the
kitchen when their cups were filled.
“Is everything alright with your daughter?” Ser Rodrick asked.
“Yes, though she is scared of everybody with the name Clegane, since the
largest man I’ve ever seen bearing the name Clegane came a few months ago,” the
innkeeper explained.
“The Mountain?” Ser Rodrick asked and the innkeeper nodded. All eyes turned to
Sandor.
“What did my brother do?” he rasped after gulping down his cup of ale.
“Not only him, but also his men,” the innkeeper explained and Sandor already
knew where this would be going, if Gregor’s men were involved.
“They defiled my daughter on the table you are sitting at, stripping her of all
chances to get a good marriage,” the innkeeper said. “The whole village knows
what your brother did to her.”
“I am sorry to hear of my brother’s latest atrocities,” Sandor rasped.
“That won’t undo what your damn brother and his men did with my innocent
daughter!” the innkeeper yelled. “Can I expect you to defile my daughter too,
if I don’t shut my mouth?”
Much to everyone’s surprise Sansa jumped up from her seat and turned to the
innkeeper.
“How dare you accuse my husband of such things?! He hates his brother more than
anyone in the world and if he could he would undo what has been done to your
daughter,” Sansa yelled and the innkeeper was taken aback by that.
“I am sorry m’lady.”
Sansa sat down and looked at Sandor and he felt himself nod lightly. He didn’t
expect his wife to defend him.
The daughter of the innkeeper brought the roasted chickens after a while and
her father refilled the cups, every time they were empty.
The whole time during the meal he could feel the eyes of the men and Lady
Catelyn on him, judging him in silence for his brother’s deeds.
Everywhere I go my brother already left his mark, he thought bitterly.
After dinner Lady Stark and the girls went to the rooms, while Ser Rodrick
still shared some ale with his men.
Sandor instead went outside and took a bag of gold, he got from his tourney
money and went back inside.
He found the innkeeper in the kitchen.
“I am really sorry for your daughter. Here take this,” he said and handed him
the bag of five hundred gold dragons. The eyes of the innkeeper went wide, as
he saw all the gold. “I know it can’t undo what my wretched brother did, but
with this gold you at least can find her a good husband or leave this village
and go where nobody knows about your daughter’s whereabouts. Or you use it for
the inn. It’s up to you.”
“Thank you m’lord, thank you. That is more money I have ever seen before. You
really aren’t like your brother. I am sorry that I accused you earlier, but I
can’t forget what he did to my Layna.”
“I never will either. I promise you. The day I kill my brother it will also be
for your daughter,” Sandor rasped.
“Thank you, m’lord. Can I do something for you, some ale? Or maybe I’ll find a
cask of wine in the cellar.”
“Don’t bother yourself with it. I go to bed. My wife is probably already
waiting for me,” Sandor said and the innkeeper nodded.
Sandor went upstairs to find Sansa already asleep in the bed. He quickly got
rid of his boots and his tunic before he quickly washed away the dirt of the
day with a wet rag, before he joined Sansa in bed.
Sansa didn’t wake up, but instead half asleep snuggled up to him.
Sandor was still amazed that Sansa did that every time they shared a bed, even
if it had been a week since they had last shared a bed.
Sandor stroked a strand of hair behind her ear and her mouth curled into a
smile.
“Good night, little bird,” he whispered before he closed his eyes and quickly
fell asleep.
Chapter End Notes
     This year has been a wild ride for me. Many good things have happened
     to be as well as some bad. But the good things this year definitely
     prevailed over the bad. I got my place for Biology at University and
     i was lucky enough to meet my girlfriend Lalelilolu thanks to SanSan
     :3.
     Many Stories have been finished by me this year for the glory of
     SanSan:
     ~About Chicken and Little Birds
     ~Old Scars. Soft Kisses
     ~#SuchAGuy
     ~Fluffy and Soft
     ~Chicken and Chill
     ~Sandor Claus 2: Return of the Santa
     ~Window of Opportunity
     ~Ridiculous Sweater
     ~Auburn like Flames
     ~Her Non-Knight in Dented Armor
     ~Tea for Two(Its finished.Its just still with my beta on this :) )
     ~Chirping of the Birds
     ~And the Birds sing no more(My opus magnum)
     To give you all a short Preview of whats to come next year:
     ~Finishing "Her Knight in a dented Armor"
     ~A Oneshot for MadK for her birthday
     ~And Last but not least: The promised Sequel to "And the Birds sing
     no more"
     I have a few other ideas already that are still in very early
     development, but might become stories over the course of the year.
     I want to thank all my loyal reader, who take their time to read my
     stories and leave comments. Your comments are what make me stay up
     late to write my stories. Special thanks to mademoiselle_k who were
     always there to bounce arround ideas and give me her opinion on my
     chapter. Special thanks also to Sassyeggs and SnowWhiteKnight for
     being awesome SanSan companions.
     And last to my lady Lalelilolu for simply being her. I love you <3.
     I wish you all a happy new year and may Odin watch over you. See you
     next year :)
***** Sansa *****
Sansa had enjoyed the two weeks they had spent in Riverrun.
The castle had been exactly like ones that always appeared in the stories,
where fair maidens were waiting for their knight in a shining armor to ask them
for their hand in marriage.
It had been nice to meet her uncle and grandfather for the first time and to
see the place her mother had told her so often about.
Sansa couldn’t remember how often she had heard in the last couple of weeks how
alike she looked to her lady mother, when she had been in Sansa’s age.
The master at arms Ser Desmond Grell and maester Vyman had told her it was like
young lady Catelyn had returned to them.
It felt nice to walk through the halls her mother had grown up in.
Her grandfather Hoster though wasn’t in a state to spent much time with them.
He was sick and maester Vyman told her mother that it was likely he was going
to die within the next few months.
In the few moments his mind was more clear than usual every day, Sansa visited
her grandfather alongside her uncle and mother and her grandfather always
called her his little Cat, while he called Sansa’s mother Minisa every time.
The one-time Sandor had accompanied them to be introduced as Sansa’s husband
her grandfather had only said that Brandon Stark had changed from the last time
he had seen him.
Sansa sensed that Sandor felt uncomfortable in his skin since they had spent
the night at the inn, where his brother had stayed before.
Even she didn’t miss the way all people in Riverrun looked at him and how her
uncle had spoken with her mother how Sansa’s marriage had happened. Sansa held
onto Sandor’s arm as often as possible to show everybody and Sandor that she
wasn’t repulsed by him, during their strolls through the castle and the
godswood.
Lady often accompanied them on their strolls and in the night, she had
developed the habit of sleeping on their bed, much to Sandor’s annoyance and
Sansa’s amusement.
They still hadn’t consummated their marriage, but Sansa felt that she slowly
but surely got to know her husband.
Sansa often told him about Winterfell and the surrounding lands and Sandor
always listened with interest. In return Sandor often asked her how she
imagined her future home and that he would build it like she wanted.
By now Sansa had even developed the habit of sleeping encircled by Sandor’s
arms and she missed that feel since they had left Riverrun to continue north.
Sansa longed for his touches. To be hold by his arms made her feel safe and
sound. And sometimes she felt a strange longing inside her, that made her
squeeze her legs together, when she had to think on Sandor.
After they had left Riverrun they had taken the road to Fairmarket and crossed
the Red Fork, to travel to Seagard.
They had stayed for two days as honored guests of Lord Jason Mallister. During
the feast to honor of his guests he told the story of his deeds during the
Greyjoy Rebellion and how he had slaughtered Rodrik Greyjoy, when the Ironborn
had tried to take Seagard.
It had been a welcomed break on their journey and Sansa had been happy to spend
at least one day in a feather bed with Sandor, before they continued their
journey.
Shortly after they had left Seagard the weather had changed and it rained every
day.
Sansa froze even though she was sitting in a carriage wrapped in warm blankets,
alongside her mother and Jeyne.
She didn’t even want to imagine how cold the men outside must be, riding in the
rain without any protection, beside their cloaks.
“My lady, the weather won’t get any better,” Ser Rodrick told her mother
thought he window. “We should find a place to stay for the night.”
“You are right, ser. The Twins must be close. Lord Walder is a bannerman of my
father. He will give us shelter for the night. Of course, he will demand his
toll for crossing his bridge,” her mother said.
“We should reach the Twins soon, my lady.”
 
                                      ***
 
Sansa saw the Twins come closer through the window. The rain was still falling
relentless and heavy clouds covered the sky.
The air was misty and so the castle only appeared shadowy in the distance.
“Mother you seem nervous,” Sansa said. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, Sansa. Lord Walder is just the kind of man you don’t want to spend time
with. But you will see soon enough.”
The hadn’t reached the castle yet, when they were greeted by a host of riders.
Sansa couldn’t hear what the man bearing the sigil of House Frey said to Ser
Rodrick, but after he pointed to the carriage the Frey knight allowed them to
enter the castle.
The northern host entered the castle’s courtyard, but to Sansa’s surprise no
one awaited them welcoming.
“Lord Frey awaits you in the great hall,” the knight said, before bowing and
leaving.
Ser Rodrick helped her mother and Jeyne out of the carriage, while Sandor
helped her.
Sandor was soaked by the rain, and his wet hair was sticking to his face.
“Who was that mother?” Sansa asked.
“It was one of Lord Walders sons. Come we better hurry or Lord Walder will take
it as insult that we took that long to the great hall.”
Ser Rodrick and a few men accompanied them inside, while the others took care
of the horses.
They were lead into the great hall by a servant.
The castle interior was bleak and Sansa Jeyne whispered to her that she didn’t
like that place.
Sansa couldn’t help but agree with her friend.
As they reached the great hall Sansa immediately noticed that only a small fire
was burning in the fireplace to fight the chilling air that hung in the room.
At first Lord Walder seemed to ignore their presence at first, because he
simply continued to groping on a young girl not much older than Sansa.
Sansa grabbed Sandor’s hand by instinct and he gently rubbed the back of her
hand with his thumb.
Her mother had been right. Lord Walder really was the most unpleasant man he
had met before.
He reluctantly gave them hospitality and only shared bread and salt with them
after they paid the toll for crossing the bride and explaining why Lady Catelyn
had brought the Lannister dog into his halls.
Her mother had explained lengthy that it had been the will of King Robert that
Sansa’s and Sandor’s match came to be.
Lord Frey had a good laugh about a she-wolf mating with a dog, before saying
that a Frey would have made a better match than Sandor. He even pointed to one
sitting between all his other children on the benches left and right of room,
saying that his soon Wendel would have made a nice match for her.
When Sansa had looked over to Wendel, that weasel faced boy even had the
indecency to wink at her while licking his lips.
Sansa hoped they would be able to leave this place rather sooner than later.
Lord Walder expected that she, her mother and Sandor would dine with him
tonight. Sansa wasn’t excited at all, but her mother had reminded her that it
would be an insult if she didn’t attend.
After they had eaten their stale bread and salt they were shown to their rooms.
The room Sandor and Sansa had gotten was simple and didn’t look like it was
used often. The table and chairs were dusty and in the fireplace still held the
ash from the last fire that had been lit long ago.
“I have stayed in ruins that looked better than this rathole,” Sandor growled
as he looked around in the room.
“It’s only for one night, Sandor. We will manage to survive this,” she said
squeezing his hand encouraging and Sandor nodded with a grunt.
“I’ll order a hot bath being brought to you,” he said. “You a freezing.”
“You should take one too. After all you are soaked by the rain. I don’t want
you to become ill,” Sansa said with a hint of concern in her voice.
“I survived tougher things than some rain, but I will take a bath after I tent
to Stranger if my little wife wants that. Ill dry up Lady too and find
something to eat for her.”
“Thank you, I see you later than,” Sansa said sitting down on the bed undoing
her braids.
Sandor nodded and left the room after he quickly started a new fire in the
fireplace to warm up the room.
The rain still fell outside the window and Sansa could hear the rush of the
river outside, when two of Ser Rodrik’s men carried a copper tub into the room
and some servants brought hot water.
Usually it was Jeyne’s duty now to help her bathing and dressing, but Sansa had
told her that she should take a bath herself in her room not far from Sansa’s.
The men left the room with a ‘m’lady’ and closed the door behind them. Sansa
locked the door before she started to untie the laces of her dress.
She gently pushed it down her shoulders until it was pooled around her feet.
She got rid of her stockings, smallclothes and shift before she walked over to
the tub.
Sansa shivered a little by the chilling air. She rippled the water surface with
her fingers to test its temperature, before she sank in with a happy sigh.
She leaned back against the tub and grabbed the sponge lying next to her
razorblade on a small side table.
Sansa was glad that she was finally able to get rid of the stubbles that had
grown over the weeks of travel.
She soaked the sponge and let the hot water run over her face.
The rain was still pattering against the windows, while Sansa closed her eyes
for a moment, sinking deeper into the tub until the water was barely under her
chin.
The feeling of the hot water embracing her was nearly as good as the feel of
being held by her husband during cold nights, Sansa thought to herself.
Her thoughts drifted to the time they had spent in Riverrun and how she once
had seen Sandor spar with Ser Rodrik in the courtyard from the window of the
keep, while she had embroidered with her mother and Jeyne.
Ser Rodrik was a great swordsman. Robb had often talked about him being unable
to beat Ser Rodrik during sparing sessions in Winterfell and Robb was very
skilled with the sword. Sandor on the other hand was able to overcome Ser
Rodrik with ease.
Sansa had peaked into the courtyard several times, when her mother didn’t look
and she felt her face heat up at the memory of seeing Sandor without her tunic
in the hot afternoon sun.
His sweaty back had glistered in the sun as he had stepped to the closest horse
trough and poured a bucket of water over his head.
Even from above she had clearly been able to see his strong shoulders and when
he had turned around to say something to Ser Rodrik, she had bit her lip
without noticing at the sight of his brought chest covered with hair.
There it was again. That strange feeling deep inside her that Sansa had felt
more often the last few weeks.
A feeling of need that often had let her wakeup in the nights during their
journey. Much to Sansa’s embarrassment she had noticed several times a strange
dampness in her smallclothes.
She had been too embarrassed to tell her mother about it, but when she had
touched herself down there to see if her smallclothes were completely soaked it
had felt strangely good.
Sansa felt herself blush at the thought how good it had felt to touch her most
private bits.
She knew from Septa Mordane’s lessons that it wasn’t considered the behavior of
a virtuous lady to touch herself in anyway.
But no one was here to judge her and so Sansa closed her eyes once more after
listening for a moment if anyone was in front of the door.
Just the thought of doing something that was forbidden for a lady send a
strange feel of excitement through her body.
Sansa’s right hand traveled over her chest down her belly until she reached the
auburn curls at the joint of her thighs.
Sansa bit her lips and took a deep breath as she carefully stroked her fingers
alongside her folds.
A tiny moan escaped her mouth and Sansa sank into the water a little more when
she shook a little when she brushed over a sensitive pearl at top of her folds.
Sansa couldn’t help but imagine how Sandor’s hands would feel on her.
Would it feel as good? Would it feel even better?
The thought of Sandor’s hands on her made shivers run down her spine.
Sansa continued to caress her pearl, while she imagined Sandor hands on her
while his rough voice rasped ‘little bird’ into her ear.
Sansa felt like she was close to something greater. But Sansa startled up in
the tub, when all of sudden somebody knocked on the door.
“Sansa?” her mother asked through the door. “Is everything alright? You bath
quite long already. It's time to get ready for dinner.”
Sansa sighed in slight frustration. It had just started to feel even better.
Sansa felt her face heat up at her wanton wish that her mother would have come
a little later.
“Yes, mother I have nearly finishedthe bath,” Sansa said and her mother told
her she would return in a few to help her dress.
Sansa finished her bath and unlocked the door after drying up.
Her mother returned shortly after and brushed her hair like she had done so
often, while Sansa let her thoughts drift again to Sandor and how his touches
would feel.
Her mother braided her hair and they left for dinner, when Sandor knocked on
the door to accompany them.
He seemed to be as excited to dine with old Lord Walder as Sansa and her mother
was.
Sansa linked her arm with his and to feel his warmth through his tunic made
Sansa smile shyly, when they walked through the corridors of the Twins.
***** Sandor *****
Sandor was relieved at the thought that the journey would soon come to an end.
Winterfell was only a few hours away. It was already possible to see the castle
on the horizon. His new home. For now, at least until his father in law wrote
him which lands would become his to build the keep the little bird wanted.
Sandor was glad they only had stayed one night at the Twins few weeks ago, or
he would have murdered that old wrinkled bastard with his own hands.
To see how Lord Frey had gaped at Sansa the whole evening, just like his ugly
spawns had done, telling lewd japes and ridiculed their marriage, had made his
blood boil.
At least he had been able to sleep with Sansa in the same bed for one night,
until they were separated again for the rest of their way.
Another thing Sandor could look forward too. Sleeping together with his little
bird. Her soft body closely nestled against his. Her sweet smell surrounding
him, while she hummed to his fingers trailing over her marble skin of her arms.
His little bird loved to fall asleep to him caressing her arms and back. He did
it with pleasure, even if Sansa had said he didn’t need to do it if he
preferred to sleep instead.
In every village they had passed by in the North, the people had started to
cheer when they saw who passed by.
Sandor had never seen this kind of loyalty anywhere before. In the Westerlands
the people bowed their heads out of fear, not love for their liege lord.
The men around were chatting lightly about the things they would do as soon
they reached the castle. Some of them were swooning over the one or another
whore they would visit in the local brothel in Wintertown, while others were
just excited to see their wives and children again.
It was late afternoon, when they finally entered the castle.
Lord Stark’s eldest son was waiting for  them with a small entourage of the
castle staff. The Greyjoy boy was also present, as well as the two youngest
Stark children.
Their group came to a halt and Sandor got off Stranger’s back to open the door
of the carriage.
Lady Stark was the first to get out of the carriage followed by Sansa, who held
onto Sandor’s hand while doing so.
“Welcome home, mother,” Lord Stark’s eldest son said before hugging his mother.
Lady Stark after that hugged and kissed her two youngest, before she turned to
her eldest again.
“Robb, may I  introduce you to your sister’s husband,” she said and Theon
Greyjoy chuckled in the background, only to stop at a sharp look from Lady
Stark.
Sansa linked her arm with his and stepped forward to her brother.
“Robb, this is my husband. You remember him from King Robert’s visit?”
“Aye, I do. Prince Gendry’s shield. Or should I say former shield?” he said in
a neutral tone, before he shook hands with Sandor.
“I already ordered the cooks to prepare dinner, even some lemon cakes for you
Sansa,” her brother said and Sansa smiled up. “Mother there have been some
questions about the housekeeping books in your absence.”
“We can talk later Robb. We had a long journey.”
“You are right mother. The servants already prepared the Lord’s chamber mother,
but I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to prepare Sansa’s old rooms, or some
guest chamber.”
“Robb, she is still your sister, even if she now is Lady Clegane. Have some
servants prepare her old chamber.”
“Aye mother,” he said and gave the orders, while the remaining staff  started
to mind their own business again.
Theon Greyjoy smirked eyeing him and Sansa once from head to toe, before he
went his own business.
Buggering squid, Sandor thought. He would keep an eye on that cocky bastard.
Servants started to unload the carts, while Sansa followed her mother and
brothers into the keep, holding onto his arm.
He could feel the looks of the castle staff on him, but every time he dared to
look in the faces of the people that passed by, he nearly never saw any
disgust, instead he saw more something like curiosity. Like the people were
interested in whom had become the husband of their Lady’s daughter.
They reached Sansa’s room just as the servants had put down their chests and
other belongings.
“This will be our home for the near future,” Sansa turned smiling to him.
“Before we build our keep at least.”
“Aye, little bird,” he said still standing in the door, when Lady squeezed
herself into the room, jumping on the bed.
“If your wolf thinks we can share that bed in three, she is damn wrong. It will
already be pretty small with us two, little bird.”
“I guess you are right. She is just used to sleep on it, but she was a pup back
then,” Sansa said pointed to the floor next to the fireplace. “Off the bed
Lady.”
Lady immediately jumped off the bed and went to the spot Sansa had pointed too.
“Uhm, you want me to show you the castle?” Sansa asked a bit awkward fiddling
with her dress. “It will still be a while until dinner is served and I guess
you don’t had time to see everything the last time you were here.”
“Indeed, little bird.”
“Let’s go then,” she said smiling up, taking his arm leaving their chamber with
Lady.
Winterfell was huge. Not as huge as Casterly Rock, but still larger than every
other castle he had been before.
Sansa told him about the history of Winterfell and also told him stories of her
childhood with her siblings now and then. She always laughed when she did it
and Sandor secretly envied Sansa for her carefree youth.
She showed him the godswood and its weirwood. He had to say he liked the
godswood more than the sept, Sansa had shown him afterwards.
Just before his wife wanted to show him the crypts, the castle’s bell announced
it would only be less than an hour before dinner would be served.
They returned to their room and washed up a little before they made their way
to the great hall.
Sansa’s mother and little brothers were already sitting at the table, while
Robb and Theon Greyjoy hadn’t arrived yet.
Sandor took his place next to Sansa and soon the servants started to bring
dinner. It started with a hearty beef stew with fresh bread before a second
course of roasted boar in heavy gravy with roasted potatoes as side dish.
Everything went together with dark ale.
Robb and Theon arrived shortly after the beef stew had been served and when
Lady Stark asked where they had been, Robb answered they had been in Wintertown
and forgotten time.
Lady Stark seemed to be annoyed by their behavior, but didn’t say anything
further.
During the dinner they chatted lightly about their time in the south while
Sandor sometimes had to answer questions regarding his actions in saving the
king.
Theon Greyjoy chuckled at every given chance when their marriage became topic.
Rickon asked if now that she was married it meant  that she would soon have a
baby of  her own. Everybody had laughed loudly at Rickon’s innocence while
Sansa had blushed pretty looking at Sandor through her leashes.
After dinner Lady Stark asked Robb, Sansa and him to join her in the Lord’s
solar after Rickon and Bran were sent to bed.
“You wanted to see us mother?” Sansa asked as they entered.
“Your father wrote a letter, regarding the lands he granted your husband to
settle on.”
They took their seat next to Robb in front of her mother on the other side of
their father’s table.
“Your father grants you lands near the White Knife arm between Winterfell and
Torren’s Square. It is not further away than Castle Cerwyn. Its fertile soil
according to your father and an iron mine is close by.”
Sansa nodded and seemed excited to finally run her own keep.
“How long will it take until we can live there?” Sansa asked.
“It will take time. Only a few farms and a mill are located there in a small
village. It will take several months maybe even longer for the keep to be
build. You should probably ride there soon to visit the place. Maester Luwin
probably knows a builder up to the task to erect your keep Lord Clegane.”
“Aye Lady Stark. I am sure of that.”
“Did father write anything else? Anything about Arya?” Robb asked.
“He did. It seems Robert’s newly gained interest in ruling his kingdom has
disappeared once more and your father and Lord Stannis do all the work again.
Arya seems to be doing fine. Your father writes she is doing good progress on
her dancing lessons and she finally seems to grow fond of prince Gendry.”
“That’s good to hear. I hope they will write soon again,” Sansa said and her
mother nodded.
Outside the window the bells rang to announce the changing of the guard and
Sansa yawned.
“It's  late, we should probably call it a day. I wish you two a good night Lord
Clegane. I just have to talk with my son for a moment about his visits in
Wintertown.”
“Good night, mother,” Sansa said and got up from her chair followed by Sandor.
He wished his mother in law and brother in law a good night, before he went to
his room with his wife on his arm.
When they entered their room, a fire was already burning in the fireplace and
Lady peacefully slept in front of it on a rag.
Sandor still thought it a miracle how the walls were warm. Sansa had explained
it to him earlier but it still seemed like a dream.
Sandor got under the furs first, while Sansa still brushed out her hair at her
dressing table, wearing her nightgown.
Sandor watched smiling and his little bird blushed at being watched.
After she was done she got under the furs, snuggling up to his body.
“Sleep well, little bird,” he said and was surprised when he suddenly felt
Sansa’s lips brush against his.
“You too Sandor,” she breathed after their lips parted.
Sansa placed her head over his chest and she quickly fell asleep, while
Sandor’s heart was racing at the thought of his wife kissing him by her own
will.
Sandor buried his nose in the crown of her hair and surrounded by her smell he
quickly drifted off into a peaceful slumber.
 
***** Sansa *****
It's been nearly two months since they had returned to Winterfell. The
preparations for the harvest feast had slowly but surely started.
To Sansa’s surprise her mother had given her responsibility about the
organization of the feast. She had said it would be a good for her future
household if Sansa could practice ruling a larger castle in real life. Of
course, her mother would assist Sansa and help her if Sansa had a question. So
far, her mother said that she did a fantastic job.
She still had trouble with the castle books, but Maester Luwin had offered to
give her special lessons in math to help her with that.
It felt great to have responsibility for the first time in her life and Sansa
aimed to make this harvest feast the best the North has ever seen.
Sansa played with the thought of organizing her own little harvest feast in the
years to come for the people around her new home.
A few weeks ago, Sandor and her had visited the lands her father had granted
her. Sandor had surprised her suggesting to visit the place. She was in the
middle of organizing the daily duties of the servants when Sandor had simply
lead Stranger from the stable alongside Lady and asked her if she wanted to
visit her new home.
Sansa then had told him she would let servants prepare her horse, but he had
simply mounted his stallion and held out his hand for her to take.
It had felt wicked to let Sandor pick her up in the saddle behind him, while he
said she could simply ride with him.
Sansa had barely enough time to tell the servants to ask her mother what work
needed to be done, when Sandor had already kicked Stranger into gallop towards
the Hunter’s Gate, followed by her direwolf.
Sansa’s hair had flown freely in the wind while the landscape rushed past them.
She had simply smiled to herself having her arms around Sandor’s chest.
The lands were really only about two or three hours away from Winterfell. The
place was beautiful. A small creek was coming from the nearby forest merging
into the river leading to the White Knife.
A village was located right next to the place where Sandor had suggested to
erect their keep. Some of the villagers had come curiously to see who had come.
They had all bend their knees when they had noticed who had come. Sandor then
had told them that they wouldn’t need to crawl in the dust before them and that
they could expect a just rule by his wife and him.
The villagers had cheered for their new lord and lady and promised to support
them with everything they had to offer.
Since it was becoming late, Sansa and Sandor hurried their way back to
Winterfell. After they had returned Sansa had gone to Maester Luwin to ask if
he knew any builder capable of erecting their keep.
Later that day Sandor had told her that Lady Stark had given him a little
scolding for simply riding off with her, but in the end, she had been fine with
it since it was the duty of the lady to visit her people.
Sansa was glad that her mother had warmed up to Sandor. Robb still was a little
reserved, but Sansa guessed it was just him thinking he had to dislike the
husband of her sister.
Sansa was also glad that the people of Winterfell didn’t treat him strangely.
They all showed him the respect the husband of their Lords eldest daughter
deserved.
Theon though thought himself very funny every time he asked her how it was to
not be married to a high lord or knight like she always wanted, but instead the
second son of a minor house, not even worth being called noble.
Most of the time Sansa simply ignored Theon’s behavior rolling her eyes, but
one time she had told him that she would always prefer Sandor over every knight
or lord in Westeros.
Theon had then angrily told her that if she wasn’t married to the Hound, he
would show her what happens to a woman on the Iron Islands that dared to speak
to a highborn like that.
He then stormed away and Sansa hadn’t seen him for the rest of the day.
Sandor had told her that he had run into a red-haired woman, looking like a
whore, sneaking from Theon’s room, as he had been on his way to Sansa a few
minutes ago. He had asked Theon if Lady Stark knew about him bringing whores
into her husband’s castle. Theon had just retorted that he didn’t care what
Lady Stark thought and that he should mind his own business.
Sansa had then of course told Sandor about the incident that had happened
between her and Theon earlier that day.
Sandor had been furious when he heard of the way Theon had talked to her. She
promised Sandor that she would tell him immediately when Theon next time
overstepped his boundaries with her.
                                      ***
The raven that changed everything arrived on a sunny morning, carrying the
message of King Robert's death and their father’s imprisonment.
The letter said that Sansa’s father apparently was part of a conspiracy where
Stannis Baratheon would kill his older brother, rule the Iron Thrones by
installing one of Robert’s bastards, that was illegitimate in Joffrey’s eyes.
Sansa couldn’t believe the words their mother was reading to them in their
father’s solar.
Her father would never conspire to murder his older and best friend.
The letter continued with the proclamation of Joffrey being crowned as King,
demanding every Lord of the Seven Kingdoms to come to the capital to swear
loyalty.
“Joffrey puts our father in chains and now wants me to kiss his ass?”
“Not only yours Robb. Joffrey demands that Sansa and his treacherous dog also
come to King's Landing,” her mother said and threw the letter on the table.
Sansa swallowed. What would Joffrey do if she really returned to Kings Landing
with Sandor?
“Does the letter say anything about Arya?” Sansa asked.
“It doesn’t. No word about your sister, her betrothed or Lord Stannis.”
“If they had Arya they would clearly mention that she is the Lannister’s
captive,” Robb said.
“You are right Robb. Maybe she managed somehow to escape the city,” her mother
said hopefully.
“She might have.”
“The King still demands you to come to the capital,” Luwin threw in with
concern.
“Joffrey is not my king,” Robb said. “But I will go south.”
“He will kill you as soon as you enter the city or take you captive,” Sandor
rasped.
“That’s why I won’t go alone,” he said and turned to Luwin. “Call the banners.”
“All of them?” the old Maester asked.
“They all swore to defend my father.”
“They did,” Luwin said, bowed his head and left the room to head to his tower.
“Are you sure about this Robb?” Her mother asked with concern in her voice. “Do
you really want to face the Lannister’s in battle?”
“It’s not what I want mother. It’s what I need to do. For father. If I manage
to win a decisive battle, then I am in a position to negotiate father’s
freedom.”
Sansa’s mother nodded.
“If you lose though…they will kill you. As they will kill your father…and then
they will come for your sister and little brothers. Lord Tywin isn’t known for
being a merciful man.”
“That makes my options easier. I’ll simply have to win.”
                                      ***
Later the same day Sansa held onto Sandor’s hand while they watched the ravens
leave Maester Luwin’s tower in every direction, carrying the messages for their
bannermen to rally their soldiers and lead them to Winterfell.
Sansa was afraid for her father and sister as for what would happen now that
Robb had called the banners.
“What will happen now?” Sansa asked Sandor that evening when they lied in bed
together.
“War against the Lannister’s to free your father,” Sandor rasped next to her.
“Will you have to go too?” Sansa asked uncertain.
“I have to. I am now a bannerman of your father and your brother called for
war. It’s the duty to my landlord.”
“I don’t want you to go,” Sansa said fearfully. “I want you to stay here at my
side.”
Sandor looked at her, stroking her cheek with his finger.
“You really want me to stay, don’t you?” he asked.
“Of course, I do. I love you and I don’t…” she began and stopped when she
realized what she had just said.
“You love me?” Sandor asked propping himself up on one arm to look at her.
“I feel I do. At first, I thought I would only be trying to make our marriage
work, because I didn’t know you. But I came to know you and with knowing what a
good man you are I think I slowly but surely started to fall in love with you,”
Sansa tried to explain.
“You love me…” he said, sounding a little skeptical.
Sansa reached out to him and stroked over his scars with the tips of her
fingers. His facial expression seemed to soften even more with every second her
fingers traveled over the rough and leathery tissue.
“I love you too,” he softly breathed.
Sansa heart rate raised at these words. She had always dreamed of hearing these
words by her husband.
“You do?”
“I do. I think I fell in love with you even before we left King’s Landing.”
Sansa got up and softly pressed her lips against his. She closed her eyes while
their lips lingered over each other’s. This very moment felt like a dream.
When their lips parted and Sansa opened her eyes, she looked into the steel
grey eyes of Sandor and she felt herself smile up and he smiled back at her.
“I am ready,” she whispered.
“Ready for what?” he asked slightly confused.
Sansa felt her face heat up.
“You can take me if you like. I am ready. I trust you,” she said thinking her
heart would burst through her chest any moment. “You are going to war and I
want to become your wife in the eyes of the gods now.”
“Ohh little bird,” he said cupping her cheek with his large warm palm, gently
stroking her skin with his thumb.
“I am glad you trust me and tell me you are ready, but I don’t want you just
because I am leaving for war.”
“I don’t offer myself because you are leaving, but because I want you, Sandor.
I love you and you are more handsome than you give yourself credit for. I want
to feel your hands on me. Feel your lips against mine…” Sansa said. “Don’t make
me says more,” she added blushing even more.
“You look beautiful when you blush,” he rasped smiling and Sansa thought her
face must be on fire and she buried it in the pillow for a moment.
“Thank you,” she said muffled by the pillow. “Will you now finally make love to
you wife, or does she have to beg?”
Sandor leaned close to her ear.
“That won’t be necessary,” he whispered and Sansa felt shivers of excitement
run down her spine.
Sansa was lying on her stomach as Sandor gently pushed away her hair to expose
her neck and started to place several kisses on her soft skin.
He continued to kiss down her neck to her shoulder, carefully pushing the
fabric of her nightgown on his way to her arm.
“You will have to tell me what to do Sandor,” Sansa said moving her head to the
side allowing him more access to kiss his way back from her shoulder to her
throat.
“You don’t have to do anything little bird. Just follow your instincts,” he
rasped between kisses and gently turned her around so she was lying on her
back.
Sansa smiled at him pulling his face towards hers for another deep and long
kiss. She sat up after breaking the kiss, biting her lower lip while she shyly
started to pull her shift over her head, revealing her body to Sandor.
Sansa watched Sandor closely for his reaction and she saw that his mouth
slightly fell agape as he saw her mostly naked for the first time.
“Your beauty is remarkable Sansa,” he rasped and he looked at her waiting for
permission to touch her.
She took his hand, placed it on her chest right above her heart.
“Your heart is racing little bird,” Sandor said.
“Well, all of this is pretty exciting so far,” she breathed.
“It is little bird,” he said. “We can stop if you want that. There is no need
for us to go all the way tonight.”
Sandor’s words warmed her heart and it only fueled her desire to finally
consummate their bond.
“I want to,” Sansa said and Sandor placed another kiss on her lips, while his
hand cupped her right breast, making her nipple harden at his touch.
He started to kiss her jawline, down her throat until he reached her breasts,
giving each of them equal attention with his mouth and tongue, making soft
moans escape her mouth.
His hand traveled over her stomach down to the hem of her small clothes,
carefully tugging on them and Sansa lifted her bum to allow him to pull them
down.
Sandor let her smallclothes fall to the floor next to the bed and Sansa shut
her legs in reflex, as Sandor crawled back up to her face for another kiss.
Sansa stroked with her fingers through Sandor’s hair. With one of his hands he
was stroking the soft skin of the legs and every time his hands came close to
her private place she could feel curiosity build up within her how it will
actually feel to have him touch her lady bits.
Sandor’s hand wandered to the inside of the thighs and Sansa spread her legs
further for him.
He kissed the inside of her thighs and Sansa could feel his hot breath on her
skin.
“What are you doing?” Sansa breathed looking down at him.
“You said you wanted to feel my lips on yours,” he simply rasped and before
Sansa could think about his words, she already felt his lips and tongue on and
between her nether lips.
Sansa took a deep breath at the sudden feeling lifting her chest of the sheet.
“San…Sandor…” were the only words that left her mouth at this moment, as the
same feeling started to build up within her that she had felt before when she
had explored her folds with her hand.
Sandor let his tongue flicker over her pearl, holding on her legs.
Sansa had one hand thrown behind her head while the other was tightly grabbing
the sheet.
Her legs were shaking when waves of pleasure flooded over her, making her moan
Sandor’s name several times.
Sansa slowly came down from her peak looked down to Sandor who was grinning
like a cat that had just gotten the cream.
“I don’t think that’s what proper Lords do to their Ladies,” Sansa said half
japing.
“If so, why is it called the Lords kiss, little bird?” Sandor asked in return
getting rid of his small clothes.
Sansa got her first proper look at his member and she was strangely fascinated
by the way it looked.
“Do you still want me little bird?” he asked and Sansa nodded.
“I’ll try to be as gentle as possible little bird,” Sandor said with concern in
his voice positioning between her legs.
“I know Sandor,” she said and pulled him down for another kiss.
Sandor rubbed his member alongside her wet folds and Sansa lightly shivered in
excitement every time his member brushed over her pearl.
She finally felt him at her entrance and Sansa braced herself for the pain she
had been told about, when he would break her maidenhead.
“Look at me,” he said and Sansa’s eyes focused on his and Sansa only saw deep
love in them.
He slowly entered her but she didn’t feel any of the expected pain. Instead she
only felt completely filled and it foreign and exciting at the same time.
He started to move burying his face in the crook of her neck. Sansa flung her
arms around his neck and softly moaned into his ear every time his member moved
in and out of her.
“Little bird, you feel so good,” he breathed raising his pace slightly.
“You too,” Sansa moaned and dug her nails into his shoulder.
This feels better than I dreamed to imagine, Sansa thought trying to match
Sandor’s movement.
“Sansa, I am close,” he hushed and moments later he groaned in the crook of her
neck as he found his own completion.
Sansa sighed happily as the twitching of his member faded away inside her. Just
before Sandor had reached his peak it had felt like she was building up another
peak of her own.
Sandor rolled off her and Sansa licked her dry lips swiping away a loose strand
of hair from her face.
She felt something sticky leak out of her and she reached down to look what it
was. She was strangely fascinated by the sticky white liquid she found on the
tips of her fingers.
“What is this?” Sansa asked and Sandor chuckled embracing her with his arm.
“Your husband’s seed,” Sandor explained.
“Really?” Sansa asked slightly confused.
“What did you think it was?”
“I don’t know, but not your seed.”
“Didn’t your septa teach you stuff like this?”
“She mentioned than my Lord husband would have to put his seed inside me, but I
certainly didn’t imagine it to be like this.”
“Was the rest like you imagined it, little bird?” Sandor asked and she put her
head on his shoulder snuggling up to him, while he pulled the blanket over
them.
“It was even better than I ever dreamed to imagine it, Sandor,” Sansa said and
kissed his cheek, before lying down again with a happy sigh.
“Was it good for you?” Sansa asked a bit shyly. After all she had been an
inexperienced maiden.
“It was perfect little bird. Just like you,” he said and kissed the crown of
her hair.
They simply laid in each other’s arms for a while, listening to the cracking of
the fire in the fireplace, until Sansa’s soft yawn broke the silence.
“It’s getting late little bird,” Sandor rasped.
“I know, the next weeks will be busy for us. We should take every rest we can
get.”
“Good night little bird.”
“Good night, my love.”
***** Sansa *****
Sansa felt like she was going mad. The whole morning after Sandor and her had
finally consummated their bond in the eyes of the gods, she felt like everybody
in Winterfell was looking at her differently.
Were they able to sense that she wasn’t a maiden anymore, but a woman bedded?
It was like she was feeling the eyes of everyone on her and she had a hard time
keeping herself from blushing every time she had to talk to anyone.
That her mother had mentioned that she looked like she was glowing during
breakfast didn’t help either.
She didn’t feel much different than yesterday besides being a little sore.
Even in her boldest dreams she had never expected that it could feel that good
to share the bed with a man. Her mother had mentioned that it could feel quite
nice, but that has been an understatement.
In truth, Sansa couldn’t wait to share the bed with Sandor again.
She had no idea though if she should show or ask Sandor to take her again. He
might see it as wanton behavior unworthy of Lady.
Septa Mordane’s lectures reminded her that her husband would decide when and
how often they would share the bed and she had to accept it, but Sandor had
more than once showed her that he valued her opinion.
In fact, Sandor seemed to care deeply that sharing the bed with him wasn’t just
for his satisfaction, but hers as well.
Over the course of the morning the first ravens returned from several
bannerman, carrying the message that they were gathering their troops and
prepared them to march to Winterfell.
Robb spent most of the morning in their father’s solar, probably making
battleplans or whatever he had to do.
Sansa went to the godswood with Lady, praying for their father’s safety and
good luck for Robb.
She also prayed for news of Arya and the old gods had heard her prayer.
Shortly after lunch arrived ravens from Dragonstone carrying three letters.
One of them was signed with ‘King Gendry, First of his Name’, declaring Gendry
Baratheon the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, calling for all Lords loyal
to the crown to fight against the usurper Joffrey Baratheon, who had taken the
throne by murdering his own father.
The second one though was from Arya; Sansa’s mother wept in relieve that she
finally got word from her youngest daughter.
Arya wrote that she was an honored guest of Stannis Baratheon and his wife on
Dragonstone. She missed her family dearly and hoped to soon hear of them.
The last letter though was directly addressed to Sansa’s mother and Robb from
Stannis Baratheon.
Stannis letter explained the circumstances of their father’s imprisonment.
Stannis had sailed to Dragonstone because Gendry wanted to show Arya the old
Targaryen home castle. Stannis Baratheon’s wife and daughter had accompanied
them.
Sansa’s father had stayed behind in King’s Landing. That’s when King Robert had
died surprisingly after feeling unwell for a few days.
Sansa’s father suspected that Robert had been poisoned and shared that
suspicion with lord Stannis.
Lord Stannis accused Cersei Lannister to be behind this and Stannis had further
written to Sansa’s father that he would return immediately in case Robert would
die, to prepare in case Gendry has to be crowned.
The day Stannis and the others wanted to sail the letter from Sansa’s father
arrived informing that Robert had passed away and that Joffrey claimed the
throne with the help of Cersei’s guards. Lord Stark had written that he would
try to challenge Joffrey with support of his guards and the Gold Cloaks until
Stannis would bring reinforcement from Dragonstone.
But before that plan had been set into motion, a letter from Joffrey arrived
informing that Lord Stark had tried to take the power for himself. But some of
Stannis’ spies had reported that the Gold Cloaks had turned on Lord Stark and
his men resulting into heavy casualties until he was put in chains alongside
several of his men.
Stannis further wrote that he intended to take the Iron Throne from the
clutches of Joffrey and his vicious mother and crown Gendry as the new king.
Lord Stannis asked for Robb to call the banners and lead them south to meet his
troops, so they could attack the capital and free Lord Stark and bring justice
to the usurper.
To everyone’s shock he also mentioned that the Tyrells had already sided with
Joffrey alongside Lord Tywin, while Dorne, the Vale, Riverlands and Iron
Islands still haven’t chosen a side.
The Tyrells had chosen their side, when Ser Loras had allegedly been murdered
by Renly, before he was killed by Lannisters in return. Stannis said this was
only another Lannister complot and that his brother was murdered alongside Ser
Loras in cold blood.
The letter ended with Stannis announcing that he would sail to Storm’s End
soon, to gather the Lords of the Stormlands around the one true king.
Immediately after reading the letter, Robb asked their mother to write to Uncle
Edmure and Aunt Lysa, they also needed to call their banners.
Sansa’s mother said that she would have to talk to her sister in person to
convince her to go to war, so she would travel with them and then part to the
Eyrie.
Robb wasn’t happy about it but they needed every sword they could get.
 
                                      ***
 
Over the next few months more and more bannermen arrived in Winterfell. This
morning the Umbers and Karstarks had finally arrived, as the last expected
bannermen. Lord Manderly’s men would directly meet Robb’s army on their march
south with fresh supplies.
Every Lord that arrived praised Sansa for her beauty. Their sons overbidding
each other in sparring and other little tournaments trying to gain her favor,
much to her annoyance.
She always told them that she was already married and didn’t need another man
at her side. Most of the time she they answer that she should rather have a
Northman than some hardly noble from the south.
One of Lord Karstarks sons even had the indecency to tell her he would marry
her immediately if she would be free of her husband.
Sansa had then retorted that the only reason she wouldn’t mention this
conversation to Sandor was that Robb needed every man in his war.
Sansa couldn’t even imagine being married to one of these men. They were all
brave without question and talented warrior, but Sansa felt that most of them
were only looking for a young, pretty and humble wife that would simply do
whatever they wanted.
Sansa shuddered at the thought to be and Umber or Karstark. She was happy as
Lady Clegane.
The Lords of the North though still treated Sandor with some reservation. It
was to be expected. After all they had never met him before and only knew the
infamous reputation of his monster of brother.
Later that evening all the Lords gathered in the great hall to feast and plan
their strategy.
Sansa sat next to Sandor, while her mother and Bran sat left of her. Rickon had
a light cold and was sleeping early tonight, even if he had thrown a tantrum
earlier demanding to stay awake.
Lord Umber’s voice roared through the great hall.
“For thirty years I've been making corpses out of men, boy. I'm the man you
want leading the vanguard.”
Robb sighed.
“Galbart Glover will lead the van.”
“The bloody Wall will melt before an Umber marches behind a Glover. I will lead
the Van or I will take my men and march them home.”
And uncomfortable moment of silence hung in the room and Sansa noticed Lord
Bolton’s cold eyes rest on Robb, waiting for his reaction to this insult.
“You are welcome to do so, Lord Umber. And when I am done with the Lannisters
and Tyrells, I will march back North, root you out of your Keep and hang you
for an oathbreaker.”
“Oathbreaker, is it?!” Lord Umber yelled jumping up from his seat throwing the
bench away he was sitting on.
“I'll not sit here and swallow insults from a boy so green he pisses grass.”
Lord Umbers hand wandered to his dagger, but before he could pull it Grey Wind
rushed over the table knocking over several cups before the wolf sank his teeth
in Lord Umbers hand ripping off two of his fingers.
Sansa yelped in surprise covering her mouth with her hand, while her mother
tried to hide the gruesome scene from Brans eyes.
“My Lord father taught me it was death to bare steel against your Liege Lord.
But doubtless the Greatjon only meant to cut my meat for me,” Robb said calmly
focusing on Lord Umber.
“Your meat...” the Lord of Last Hearth said staring at the blood rushing from
the stumps of his fingers. “…is bloody tough,” he added and started to laugh
breaking the tension, making everyone laughing along with him.
There were obviously some aspects of the relation between men Sansa still
didn’t understand completely.
After the feast Robb retreated into their father’s solar with the Lords to
discuss the final strategy.
Sansa retreated to her room and spend some time reading by the fireplace
waiting for Sandor to return from the council.
He returned sooner that Sansa had expected.
“You are back so soon. Has something happened?” Sansa asked putting her book
down.
“Depends how you want to see it,” he said sitting down on their bed getting rid
of his boots.
“What is this supposed to mean?” Sansa asked sitting down next to him.
“I won’t go to war. The Lords convinced your brother that they can’t trust a
Clegane, when they fight against the Lannisters with the other Clegane as
enemy. I argued against it, but your brother said I didn’t have any men to
bring with me anyway and one sword more or less wouldn’t make any difference,”
he explained.
Sansa felt relieved.
“That’s great news. You can stay here with me,” Sansa said happily but saw that
Sandor didn’t show the same excitement. “What is it Sandor?”
“It means they don’t accept me as Lord in the North. Even with you as my wife I
am only the Lannister dog for them. How are we supposed to rule our lands,
arrange marriages for our children, if they will only be the pups of the
Hound?”
“They don’t know you Sandor. Remember how the people of Winterfell were at the
beginning? Give them time. They will start to see the value of their Lord
Clegane.”
“And how will they see my worth if I can’t fight the enemies of the North?”
“Just be yourself and you will be fine,” Sansa said and kissed his cheek.
Sandor sighed and kissed the crown of her hair again.
“My smart little bird is right. Your brother wants to march tomorrow in the
early morning before sunrise. We should go to bed, so you can say your goodbye
to your mother and brother.”
“You are right Sandor,” Sansa said and dressed in her nightgown.
Currently Sansa had not much use of Jeyne as her handmaiden, she mostly only
asked for her assistance when she took a bath and then both tittered like they
used to when they were young girls, though Jeyne’s primary topic were questions
about marriage and if it was like they always had imagined it to be.
Sansa snuggled up to Sandor and just before she drifted off to sleep she said a
silent prayer for her family to come back safely from this war.
***** Sansa *****
It’s been weeks since the letter arrived that shocked everyone. At first Sansa
refused to believe what the letter said, when Luwin read it to her and her two
little brothers.
Her father was dead. Executed on Joffrey’s order, after Robb’s first victories
in the South. His head had been put on a spike above the gate of the Red Keep.
Sansa had cried in Sandor’s arms that night until she had fallen asleep. The
thought that her father was gone still felt so strange to her that every time
she thought about him she was close to start crying again.
Sansa had tried to distract herself with finishing the preparations for the
harvest feast, but she was sure this time the feast wouldn’t be as cheerful as
usual.
From all corners of Westeros ravens had arrived carrying the condolences of
hundreds of houses.
All this because Robb had won his first battle in the South; Robb had written
them after his victory.
Robb led his army down south through the Neck. Sandor had explained to her that
her brother and Stannis had planned to unite their armies to attack the capital
together. Robb intended to lead his army south the Kingsroad and over the Ruby
Ford, but his path had been blocked by Lord Tywin’s army, that had already
taken position to await him, while his son ser Jaime was besieging Riverrun.
Her uncle Edmure had declared war against the crown as soon as he had heard
that Robb was going to free their father, but he hadn’t been able to gather his
troops in time before Ser Jaime had arrived to attack Riverrun.
Sandor had patiently explained what Robb was writing about the war to her and
also showed her everything on maps, so Sansa understood what was going on. She
had no idea about warfare but Sandor was able to break it down to her in a way
she understood it.
The Tyrells were bound in fights with the Stormlords who had gathered their
men, waiting for Stannis Baratheon to arrive at Storm’s End.
Since the way south had been blocked Robb had changed his plan. Distracting
Tywin with an attack by Lords Bolton and Karstark; he crossed the Green Fork
with his army at the Twins and had been able to lead a surprise attack against
Jaime Lannister’s army besieging Riverrun, taking Lord Tywin’s eldest son
prisoner.
This victory had been the reason for her father’s execution. The Lord had tried
to name him King in the North after the news arrived of his father’s death, but
he had refused, saying that they would avenge his father by making Gendry king
with Arya at his side as Queen.
Her mother had written a letter before she departed to the Vale to try to get
the support of her sister, saying that Robb’s crossing of the Twins had come at
the cost of two marriage contracts.
Robb had to marry one of Lord Frey’s daughters, though he could choose which
one, but Rickon had to marry Shirei Frey when both would come of age.
Sansa felt bad for her brothers. If all Frey women looked like the ones she had
seen at the Twins, her brothers wouldn’t marry a beauty.
Furthermore, the news had arrived that Joffrey Baratheon was to marry Margaery
Tyrell after the war was over. Apparently, the man that had brokered this
alliance had been named Lord of Harrenhal.
Sandor had growled that he hoped the curse of Harrenhal would deal with that
man.
                                      ***
Winterfell was still covered in the silence of the night. As was her room. The
silence in her room was only interrupted by the occasional cracking of the wood
in the fireplace and her soft moans against the crook of Sandor’s neck.
“Ohh little bird…,” Sandor groaned. One of his hands resting on her hip, the
other one was stroking over her back, while she slowly rode him beneath the fur
blanket.
They had shared the bed for about a dozen times since they had done it for the
first time and it felt better every time.
Sandor encouraged her to take the lead and say if she wanted to try something
or liked anything in particular.
At first Sansa had been hesitant to take the lead, but as soon as she was sure
Sandor didn’t think her wanton for wanting to share his bed more often.
Sansa raised her pace and kissed Sandor furiously as she felt her peak coming
close.
She finally felt peak rush over her and she threw her head back moaning
Sandor’s name. Sandor groaned under her face, showed her that he had found his
completion as well.
She leaned down to his face and pressed soft kisses against his face, while he
was still breathing heavily.
“You will be the death of me little bird,” he breathed running his hands over
her damp skin.
Sansa chuckled and got off him, snuggled up to his side, while he put his arm
around her.
“I love you Sandor.”
“I love you too little bird,” he said playing with a strand of her hair.
“So much,” he added and kissed her forehead.
Sansa sighed.
“The last guests should arrive this morning for the feast. I must tell Jeyne to
prepare a bath for me,” Sansa said.
“Aye. Are you excited for the feast?”
“Not as much as I used to. It won’t be the same without father, mother, Robb
and Arya.”
“I know, little bird, but I am sure it will be wonderful. After all you worked
so hard to prepare it.”
“I know. Maybe it will distract us a little.”
After they got up Sansa called for Jeyne to prepare a bath for her.
Sandor decided to tend to his horse in the while she soaked in.
During breakfast a letter from their mother arrived, she wasn’t sure when she
would return north. She was staying at Riverrun for a while since her father
would probably soon pass away and she wanted to stay at his side.
Shortly after the breakfast the last guests arrived. The uncles of the Greatjon
were impressive warriors despite their age and they brought word of the bastard
of Roose Bolton committing atrocities among the smallfolk.
While Bran held court with Maester Luwin they asked for permission to take men
to capture or kill the bastard of the Dreadfort and end the terror he was
bringing.
Maester Luwin told the two Umbers that Ser Rodrik and Sandor would take two
dozen men and bring justice to the land.
Sandor had soothed her fears for him by telling her that he would only be away
for a few days, this was exactly what Sansa said would be his chance to show
the North his value and loyalty.
Sansa went to the kitchen before the feast to make sure everything would be
ready in time and she was glad the cooks confirmed that everything would be
ready.
The harvest feast itself was fantastic. Of course, it was way smaller than any
feast she had witnessed in the south and way smaller than herwedding feast, but
there were several courses and musicians played songs like “The Burning of the
Ships” or the “Bear and the Maiden Fair”.
Bran seemed to sulk a little because he couldn’t do much during the feast,
besides repeating the words Maester Luwin had told him to say in the right time
and watch other people dance.
Beth Cassel had been asked by several of the knights and squires that had
traveled with the lords to dance and Jeyne had been asked by a young knight
that had traveled with Lord Manderly.
Sansa danced with Sandor. When they returned to their table Lord Manderly
complemented her, she had outdone herself with the feast and her father would
be proud of the lady she had become.
Bran left the feast relatively early carried by Hodor. Sansa stayed until the
hour of the wolf, leaving the feast on Sandor’s arm, retreating to their room
and falling asleep in each other arms.
                                      ***
The next morning the guests left for their home and Sandor left with Ser Rodrik
to capture Ramsay Snow, though Sandor had mentioned he wouldn’t mind killing
him instead.
After the last guest had left Sansa oversaw the castle books to see how much
the feast had cost.
Bran was done with court for the day and wanted to go riding with Dancer and
the Reed siblings, who were the only guests that had not left. Sansa was glad
that Bran had at least some kind of friends for now at least.
Sansa went up the stairs to Maester Luwin’s tower, where she had her extra
lessons in calculus every day.
“My Lady, I’ll be ready for you in a moment,” Luwin said after Sansa greeted
him, taking her place at the table.
The Maester finished the letter he was writing, tying it to a raven, sending
the bird on its way.
“Alright my lady. I noticed you made great progress, I honestly think you don’t
need any further lessons.”
Sansa blushed at the compliment.
“Maester Luwin, there is something I wanted to ask you and it’s a rather
delicate topic,” Sansa started fiddling with her skirt.
“Alright my lady, can I ask what topic you want to talk about?”
“I first need to know if your oath as Maester forbids you from telling anyone
what is said between you and another person.”
“'My oath forbids me from saying a word to a third person without person's
consent. Who would this third person be if the question is allowed?”
“My mother…or basically anyone. I need this to stay between us.”
The trusted maester nodded and smiled warmly at her.
“How do I put it…,” Sansa started. “Are there any ways to prevent my husbands
seed to take root in me?” she asked and felt herself blush horribly.
“Don’t you want to become a mother?” the maester asked.
“No…no no no, it’s not that I don’t want to become mother. It’s just that I
don’t want to become a mother yet. I love my husband and I of course want his
children. It’s just that I want to enjoy the time for a while still until I
become mother.”
“I see. Are you with child right now?” The maester asked warmly.
“I am not Maester Luwin. My last moonblood ended four nights ago,” Sansa
explained.
“There are ways to prevent getting with child, or making sure it doesn’t grow
to be born in case the pregnancy has already happened.”
“What ways?”
The maester got up and looked through his jars of herbs.
“Ah, here we have it,” he said putting down a pod in front of her. “Moontea, my
lady. Drinking this tea will prevent your husband’s seed take root in you and
in case you are already with child it starts the monthly bleeding to get rid of
it.”
“I see,” Sansa said.
“Does your mother know about this my lady? Or your husband?”
“No. And please don’t mention it to my mother. I know that she will tell me
that it’s my duty to bear children, just like septa Mordane had. But my husband
and I have many years ahead to get children.”
“My lady Sansa, I’ve known you since you were born,” he said warmly. “I was the
one that brought you into this world and saw you grow up into one of the finest
lady I have ever seen. I can see how deeply you and your husband care for each
other. Actually, it’s still kind of strange to see you as married woman, when I
still remember you as the young girl that couldn’t wait for the lessons to end
so she could go back to her embroidering.”
Sansa laughed at the memory.
“You are still young and during my time in the citadel I read about so many
young ladies that died because they had to go through a pregnancy at your age.
So just from a health standpoint it’s rather good it you don’t get with child
too soon. I know that many men won’t care, but it seems you husband would give
you the world if he could.”
“He tries to be the best husband possible,” Sansa said sounding a bit dreamy.
“Usually you are supposed to drink the moontea daily, but if you know when your
moonblood is about to start you drink it three days in a row and your monthly
course will come as usual,” he said putting some of the tea in a small box
handing it to her.
“I recommend to sweeten the tea with some honey, I heard it is rather bitter,”
he added in a fatherly tone.
“Thank you Maester Luwin. I knew you would understand. You won’t mention this
conversation to my mother?” Sansa asked.
“No, my lady. Every word that was just spoken stays between us.”
“Thank you,” Sansa said smiling before taking her leave to attend her other
duties for the rest of the day.
 
***** Arya *****
Chapter Notes
     Happy Valtentines Day :)
Arya hated Dragonstone. It was wet and cold all the time and she couldn’t do
anything but stay in the castle the whole day.
At first Arya had been excited when Gendry had asked her if she wanted to visit
Dragonstone, since Lord Stannis wanted to show him his seat as the crowned
prince.
Arya hadn’t slept the nights before they had sailed. She was too excited to see
the ancient Targaryen castle that, if the legends were true, had been erected
by magic and she had been excited to be separated from Septa Mordane for a few
days. Since the day Sansa had left with Clegane, Mordane had been a pain in the
ass.
Since her sister was gone Septa Mordane tried relentlessly to change her into
the perfect future Queen. Her septa took offense and scolded her for nearly
everything she did.
At least Arya still had her dancing lessons with Syrio to let her anger out.
Arya missed her mother and brothers. Most of all she missed Jon. Arya often
asked herself if he had become a true man of the Night Watch or if he still was
a recruit.
She also missed Sansa and Nymeria. Her sister had annoyed her very often, but
she was her sister and she hoped she was alright. Leaving King’s Landing, Sansa
had already seemed to be fond of her husband.
Maybe she even was in love with Clegane, Arya thought to herself, amused every
time she remembered them.
Gendry seemed to really like her, even though she didn’t exactly behave like a
lady and often didn’t even look like one. She kept dirtying her dress and he
seemed to like her more and more with every day they spent together.
Arya liked him. She had to admit that from what she had seen over the course of
the month since they met at Winterfell, Gendry couldn’t be more different from
fat King Robert.
He did not drink himself into stupor like Robert had done every evening, much
to her father’s and Lord Stannis annoyance; nor had she ever seen him taking
any liberties with female servants, even if she had witnessed several times
that they had tried to lure him into their bed. She had always seen him reject
them seeming annoyed.
The thing though that irritated her most was that he continuously ‘m’lady’ even
if she had told him more than once to stop.
If Arya was honest it was kind of sweet. She still couldn’t imagine being
actually married to him, but she started to believe it might be better than she
expected.
When Arya finally had seen Dragonstone it had been great and just like she had
imagined it. Her excitement quickly faded when she realized that the island
hadn’t much to offer besides the castle and she had seen everything worth
seeing within a few hours.
Ever since, Arya had been pretty bored. The lessons Maester Cressen gave to
Stannis Baratheon’s daughter weren’t nearly as good as the lessons Maester
Luwin had given them and Stannis’ wife was spending most of her time with that
strange Red Woman from Ashai.
Stannis Baratheon didn’t seem to mind his wife religious zealot. It was obvious
that there was no love between the spouses.
That became crystal clear during the dinners every evening, since they often
didn’t say a single word to each other the whole time.
Shireen was probably the only reason she hadn’t gone insane in the endless
hours when she had nothing to do and Gendry was with Stannis. Even though she
was more like Sansa when it came to things girls usually did, she was also
highly interested in books and history.
Shireen was particularly interested in the Dance of Dragons and they had spent
many hours talking about it.
So, when Stannis had announced that they would return to the capital she had
been rather happy, but her excitement had quickly faded when the news arrived.
The king was dead and her father was imprisoned by Joffrey, accused of
murdering king Robert and taking the throne for himself.
Lord Stannis had immediately sent letters to all corners of the Seven Kingdoms
declaring the one true king.
Stannis had told her that he had written to her mother and Robb, telling them
she would be his honored guestuntil she was crowned Queen, after winning the
war to come.
They waited for weeks until Stannis’ troops arrived and he had received all
answers of his ravens. After asking Stannis she learned that her brother had
gathered an army and was marching south to free her father.
She still remembered the day Stannis had called her into the room with the
painted table of Westeros. She had expected to be scolded for she now had to
behave like in Queen to be. It had turned out to beworse than she had ever
dared to imagine.
At first, she hadn’t understood was Lord Stannis was trying to tell her, in his
strange awkward formal way. When she had finally realized that her father had
been murdered, she hadn’t felt any grief. She had only felt hate and rage for
the people who had taken her father from her. Hate for Cersei and Joffrey and
everybody else that could be involved.
Lord Stannis had promised her he would take everyone who was responsible for
this’ head, but it wasn’t more than a comforting gesture for Arya.
The grief had come later that day, when she had been alone in her chamber. She
had thrown her cup and pitcher of water against the wall screaming and crying
all the same and hit her fists against the stone wall in anger until her
knuckles were raw and bloody.
Gendry must have heard her yelling, because he suddenly was in her room hugging
her tightly.
She hit his chest with her fists, but quickly embraced his hug sobbing against
his chest.
It had been comforting to be held by his strong arms and she slowly but surely
had calmed down.
Arya had not dared to look at him at first, being ashamed of herself to appear
so weak in front of him, but he made her feel safe and protected.
Was this how Sansa felt for Clegane? Arya had asked herself. If so it was no
wonder Sansa stayed so close to her husband in the weeks before they had left
King’s Landing.
Gendry had then whispered to her that he was going to war to avenge their
fathers. He would kill Joffrey himself with his hammer.
Arya wished she had Needle with her, but she had left it in her trunk in the
Red Keep. She wished she could stab Joffrey herself, but to know that his skull
would be smashed by Gendry made her smile.
                                      ***
It was about a week since Gendry had sailed to Storm’s End with Lord Stannis.
She was staring out of the sea for hours, listening to the sound of waves
crashing onto the rock beneath the castle. She prayed silently for Robb, Lord
Stannis and Gendry to win this war.
She did so until Shireen came to her every day to tell her that dinner was
ready.
Arya then always added a prayer for Gendry to return to her safe and unharmed,
before leaving with her friend talking about the latest books they had read.
 
 
***** Sandor *****
Sandor felt pretty useless, ever since they had returned from the hunt after
the bastard of the Dreadfort.
It hadn’t been hard to find him. They only had to follow the path of his
atrocities.
They had finally caught up with the bastard on a field where he had just
committed his last crime. Unfortunately, Ser Rodrik hadn’t been able to catch
him alive, but one of his men killed him when he tried to get away.
They had been able to chain up the man they had found alongside the bastard. He
said his name was Reek and was only a servant. They had taken him to Winterfell
nevertheless and thrown him in the dungeons, where he would stay until Sansa’s
brother would return.
Since then, he spent his days sparring with the men that had remained at
Winterfell. It was a pretty dull way of passing the time. None of the men was
really up to his skill, even though they were the best he had ever spared
against.
Sansa had pleasantly surprised him with a warm welcome back when hereturned
from his hunt with Ser Rodrik and his men.
As soon as he had gotten off Strangers back, Sansa had basically dragged him to
their room. They did not leave their chamber for the rest of the day.
He had never expected that his wife would miss him so dearly that she couldn’t
wait to drag him into their bed. Sandor did not mind it though. With Sansa he
understood for the first time what it meant to make love with someone. He had
only known brothels before her, and then it was only a quick rutting to satisfy
his needs.
With Sansa though it was so much more. To see her find her completion was
better than he had ever gotten for his coin with every woman he had before.
But every time he lied in bed with her during the nights and felt her soft
breathing against his skin, he stared at the canopy and couldn’t stop himself
from fearing of what would happen if Sansa got with child.
At first, he hated the thought of becoming a father. After all, the Clegane
blood didn’t have the best traits in it and he wouldn’t be able to endure his
own children thinking him a monster. Sansa slowly but surely had convinced him
that their children would neither see him as a monster nor would they share any
bad traits, since he would be the father.
Sandor still feared the day Sansa would tell him that she was with child. After
all she was still pretty young. She had yet to pass her sixteenth nameday and
he knew well enough how often women died during birth. Even if the delivery
itself went without complications there was still the risk of her dying in
childbed.
Sandor couldn’t endure the thought that Sansa would die this young only because
he had gotten her with child. He couldn’t endure the thought of having to live
without Sansa by his side.
He knew though that Sansa wanted to become a mother and have her family on her
own. Sandor wouldn’t deny her that wish, but not if it risked her life due to
her age.
He thought about starting to spill his seed on her belly rather than into her
womb. But t he knew well enough that this was only reducing slightly the chance
that he would father a child. He had overheard Robert once drunkenly complain
about the daughter of some minor Lord writing him that she was carrying his
child, even though he swore by all gods that he had always spilled himself on
her belly.
So, Sandor had been relieved when Sansa had told him in the night he had
returned that she had asked Maester Luwin for moon tea, because she wanted to
have more time with him alone before they would become parents.
He assured her that he was completely fine with it and explained his own fears
regarding her getting with child to her. Sansa had then told him that Maester
Luwin had explained this to her too and she was glad he wasn’t mad at her in
some way.
 
                                      ***
 
Sandor was sitting in the great hall listening to the smallfolk complain to
Bran and Maester Luwin, while Rickon smashed nuts with a stone.
He and Sansa were sitting at one of the large tables, since they were Lord and
Lady Clegane for the time being of court. Any time else they would sit at the
high table.
The last petitioner had just left, when Ser Rodrick stormed into the great hall
alongside two of his men.
“Lord Stark! Torrhen's Square is under siege!” he said and everybody turned to
him.
“Torrhen's Square is barely forty leagues from here. How can the Lannisters
strike so far north?” asked Maester Luwin.
“Might be a raiding party led by the Mountain. Might be sellswords paid by
Tywin Lannister,” Rodrik explained and Sandor tensed hearing that his brother
could be attacking the North.
“We have to help them,” said Bran.
“Most of the fighting men are away with Robb, but I can gather two hundred
decent men,” Rodrik said. “And Lord Clegane can assist us with his knowledge
about his brother’s tactics,” he added looking over to him and Sandor nodded.
“Do you need so many?” Luwin asked.
“If we can't protect our own bannermen, why should they protect us? Go, Ser
Rodrik. Take the men you need,” Bran said.
“Won't take long, my lord. Southerners don't do well up here.” With that Rodrik
took his leave and Sandor followed shortly.
Rodrik was already busy sending out riders to gather the men and the ones he
had here in the castle were already preparing their horses.
“When do you intent to ride Ser Rodrik,” Sandor asked the seasoned knight.
“Today. We need the advantage of surprise when attacking them. It will take us
two days already if we ride hard to get to Torrhen’s Square, so we better ride
as soon as possible.”
“Aye, if it's really my brother we are facing, he will probably try to storm
the castle rather sooner than later. He isn’t known for his patience.”
“Aye. It seems your wife wants to talk to you, Lord Clegane,” Rodrik said
pointing to the entrance of the great hall where Sansa was waiting for him.
Sandor went over to her and told her that he would ride today.
“Do what needs to be done Sandor, but please don’t take any risks against your
brother,” Sansa said pleading and Sandor promised her to not take unnecessary
risks.
“I love you Sandor. Make sure you return to me.”
“I will Sansa. I love you too,” he said kissing his wife deeply.
 
                                      ***
 
They were near Torrhen’s Square. They had not made it within the two days they
had estimated, even if they had ridden hard with basically no break. Heavy rain
had slowed them down and so it had taken them nearly five days until the keep
came insight near the lake.
Ser Rodrik had send scouts ahead so they wouldn’t run into an ambush. They were
to be expected to return soon.
The whole ride Sandor had only been able to think about ways to kill his
brother.
The men they had taken with them were restless and eager to go into battle.
The scouts approached and the horses’ breath could be seen in the cold air.
“And? How many men do the Lannisters have?” Rodrik asked.
“They are no Lannisters, but Greyjoys,” the man said.
“Greyjoys?!” Rodrik asked unbelieving.
“Aye, about a hundred maybe.”
“Get in battle formation; we take them by surprise,” Rodrik ordered and the man
brought their horses into line, before the signal horn was blown, starting the
attack.
The sound of hundreds of horses broke the cold morning air.
The Ironborn were completely taken by surprise and Sandor saw that they
pathetically tried to form a shield wall against the cavalry.
Sandor impaled one Ironborn with his lance through his shield, crushing several
others under Stranger’s hooves.
The Ironborn’s defense line quickly broke and the Ironborn tried to retreat,
but were cut down without mercy one by one.
The last Ironborn fell when the garrison of Torrhen’s Square attacked the
retreating men.
“What the buggering hells do Ironborn do this far away from the coast?” Sandor
asked Rodrik after the battle was over.
“No idea. Maybe Balon thought himself smart, but this only will lead to his
heir’s death, as soon as Lord Stark hears of this.”
“Aye, a foolish move, considering that Torrhen’s Square has not strategic
value.”
Ser Rodrik had to agree, but they both couldn’t make any sense of it. The men
of Torrhen’s Square told them they would take care of the bodies. They offered
them the hospitality of the castle, but Rodrik and Sandor refused only agreeing
for a horn of ale for every man, to quickly celebrate their victory, alongside
some supplies for the way back to Winterfell.
They hadn’t had any casualties besides two dozen lightly wounded men. Sandor
felt slight disappointed that his brother hadn’t been the one to attack
Torrhen’s Square. It would have been the chance to finally get rid of him.
They took their leave from Torrhen’s Square and made their way back to
Winterfell.
The weather fortunately was in their favor on their way back, but they didn’t
see the necessity to push their horses harder than necessary, especially after
a battle, so they would probably take them as long to get back to Winterfell as
it had to get to Torrhen’s Square.
The men were in a good mood and were chatting freely. Sandor allowed his
thoughts to drift to his wife and the feeling of finally being able to have her
in his arms again.
When they were about a day from Winterfell they surprisingly ran into the Reed
siblings, alongside Bran, Rickon, their wolves and the wildlings woman Osha.
She had been taken prisoner only weeks before Robb had left to war.
“What are you doing here?” Rodrik asked and Bran didn’t take long to come to
the point.
“Theon has taken Winterfell and Sansa is his prisoner!” he yelped. Sandor
didn’t care what else Sansa’s brother had to say. Sandor was already kicking
Stranger into gallop, trying to get back to Winterfell as quick as possible.
***** Sansa *****
Sansa dreamed of her new home. How it will look like when it was finished and
how her future with Sandor would look like when they would finally move there.
Sansa awoke to someone ungently shaking her shoulder.
“Sandor…?” Sansa asked sleep drunken and rubbed her eyes only to stare into
Theon’s grinning face.
“I’ve taken the castle.”
“Theon?” Sansa asked confused.
“It’s Prince Theon now,” he said correcting. “Get up. You have to get dressed.”
Sansa realized that she was only wearing her thin nightgown and pulled the
blanket higher, much to Theon’s amusement. He let his eyes travel over her
smirking.
“I've taken Winterfell. I took it. I'm occupying it. I sent men over the walls
with grappling claws and ropes.”
“But, why? I thought you went south with Robb?” Sansa asked confused.
“He sent me back to Pyke,” he started. “I'm a Greyjoy. I can't fight for Robb
and my father both. I’ll now wake Bran. You better get dressed and get down to
the courtyard before I am back with Bran or I have Dagmer help you dress,” he
explained and the tall ugly Ironborn smirked licking his lips.
“I need Jeyne,” Sansa quietly spoke up.
“Ohh I forgot that you're useless on your own,” he turned to Dagmer. “Where's
her maid?”
“I don't know.”
“Find the stupid girl. Get dressed, or Dagmer will do that for you,” Theon said
and left, taking his smirking Ironborn with him.
After the door was closed she got out of bed and looked out of the window into
the courtyard. Theon’s men were already rounding up the people of Winterfell.
Jeyne was pushed into her room and looked scared, close to tears.
“Sansa what is going on?” Jeyne asked.
“I don’t know Jeyne. Theon took the castle and for now we have to do what he
wants. Help me dress, I need to go down,” Sansa explained and Jeyne started to
sob.
“Jeyne, Jeyne,” Sansa said and pulled her friend into a hug. “All will be good.
You believe me?”
Jeyne nodded and started to help Sansa dress with shaking hands.
After she was done they both went down into the courtyard.
Theon arrived with Bran shortly after. It started to rain and Sansa felt cold
drops soak through her clothes. She stood next to her brothers. Bran looked
deeply afraid sitting on a hay wagon.
“I've yielded Winterfell to Theon,” Bran whispered.
“Louder. And say Prince Theon.”
“I've yielded Winterfell to Prince Theon,” Bran said slightly louder.
“You all know me,” Theon started sounding pretty convinced about himself.
“Aye, we know you for a steaming sack of shit,” Farlen the kennel master said.
Sansa had to bite back a smile, because she felt Sandor would have said exactly
the same thing.
“Farlen, be quiet,” Bran said.
“Listen to your little lord, Farlen. He has more sense than you do,” Theon
said.
“All of you should do as he commands,” Bran said looking down into the mud. His
wet hair sticking to his face.
“My father has donned the ancient crown of Salt and Rock and declared himself
King of the Iron Islands. He claims the North as well by right of conquest,”
Theon explained. “You are all his subjects.”
“Bugger that. I serve the Starks and if you think…” Farlen started again but
one of Theon’s man knocked him down into the mud.
“If you serve me as loyally as you served Ned Stark,” Theon spoke further. “I
will be as good to you as he ever was. Betray me, and you will wish you
hadn't.”
He turned to Maester Luwin.
“Maester Luwin, send a raven to Pyke informing my father of my victory here.
And one to Deepwood Motte to my sister.”
Maester Luwin didn’t react at first.
“You are a maester of the Citadel, sworn to serve the Lord of Winterfell, are
you not?”
“I am,” Luwin said calmly.
“I am the Lord of Winterfell as Bran just informed you. Send the ravens.”
“My lord,” Luwin said and left.
Osha stepped forward and asked Theon to free her of her chains. Sansa had heard
from Maester Luwin that Osha took good care of Bran and hadn’t done anything to
flee, after she had been chained up. Luwin had also told her that Theon had
tried to overstep his boundaries with her on several occasions.
“You'll all go about your tasks as usual and you will accept me as your new
Lord,” Theon said and his men started to push the people around back to their
work. Theon came over to Sansa and took a strand of her wet hair into his hand.
“And bring Lady Sansa inside. I don’t want my future bride to get sick,” Theon
said.
“Sansa is already married,” Rickon spoke up in his young innocence.
“Soon she will be a widow,” Theon said and stroked her cheek with his finger
making her flinch. “Good that you have returned and not Arya. You are the
prettier one and already a ripe fruit to pluck. Dagmer lock her up in her
chamber. We will marry as soon as she bleeds out the last chance of a Clegane
offspring. I won’t have my heir share the traits of that ugly beast.”
“Sandor is more man than you will ever be Theon,” Sansa said her voice dripping
with disgust.
“You better work on your manners again. I won’t tolerate talk back from my
wife,” He said and gestured to Dagmer who grabbed her by the arm dragging her
into the keep. Bran screamed, pleading at Theon to let her go.
Sansa was pushed into her room and after the door was locked behind her she sat
down on the bed and prayed that Sandor would soon return with Ser Rodrik. They
were her only hope right now.
She also prayed that Theon wouldn’t harm the Direwolves that were currently
locked in the Godswood.
                                      ***
They days passed by, while Sansa wasn’t able to speak to anyone. Twice a day
her door was unlocked and a platter of food pushed into her room, before she
had even a chance to say anything.
She could only watch what was going on in the castle from her window.
It nearly looked like the people of Winterfell were simply doing her work, but
Sansa could see that everyone of their moves was watched by the Ironborn.
Two days after she had been locked up she had seen Theon yell at some of his
men in the courtyard. She had tried to listen from the open window, but she
hadn’t understood everything.
She thought she had understood that something happened regarding Bran and
Hodor, but she didn’t know what and that only fueled her fear that Theon would
do something stupid.
Theon, she had thought angrily. The man that had grown up alongside her nearly
as a brother. If her father could see his betrayal…
Her attention had then turned back to the courtyard where Theon left with
several of his men and the hounds from the kennels. Maester Luwin accompanied
him.
Sansa watched them leave and concluded that Bran somehow must have managed to
escape.
When Theon returned hours later obviously in a sour mood, a spark of hope
glowed in her chest, that Bran would be able reach Sandor and Ser Rodrik.
                                      ***
Sansa awoke to the sound of a battle a few days later. Sansa immediately got
out of her bed and quickly dressed before she looked out of the window.
To her relief she saw that Stark men were fighting against the Ironborn on the
walls and in the courtyard. She tried to spot Sandor between the fighting men,
but before she was able to spot him she heard the door unlock behind her.
Her hopes that it would be her husband were shattered when she looked into the
pale eyes of the man Sandor and Ser Rodrik had brought back from their hunt
after the bastard of Bolton.
“You need to come with me,” he said and licked his lips with his tongue coming
closer. Sansa tried to fight his grasp but he was too strong and simply dragged
her along the corridors down the keep.
“Who are you?” Sansa asked trying to escape his cold fingers that dug into her
skin.
“The Greyjoy prick knows me as Reek, but you can call me Ramsay.”
 
***** Sandor *****
Sandor split the skull in half of the Ironborn that had been stupid enough to
stand in his way, as soon as he stormed through the gate.
When they had rushed back to Winterfell, Rodrik and his men had already made
plans about how they would quickly craft ladders and a ram to storm the castle.
But when they had approached the castle, they had found the gate open and its
drawing bridge of the inner wall sabotaged, so it couldn’t be closed anymore.
They were in the courtyard before the Ironborn realized what was going on.
Sandor had noticed the dead bodies next to the gate. It seemed that the people
of Winterfell must have waited for them to return and then turned on the
Ironborn as soon as they had come in sight.
Fights took place all over the courtyard, but it was clear that the Ironborn
were heavily outnumbered.
Sandor feared for Sansa’s safety and he fought with the ferocity of the
Stranger cutting down one Ironborn at a time that was stupid enough to face
him.
“No please,” the Ironborn yelped and raised his hand as if it could stop
Sandor’s sword.
Sandor felt the warm splatters of blood hit his face and he turned around in
furor to find his next foe.
“Stop it Clegane!” he heard Theon’s voice yell over the sound of battle and
Sandor looked around trying to locate from where he was speaking.
The fighting had stopped and everybody was looking around trying to find Theon.
Sandor finally spotted him near the entrance of the keep standing next to the
man they had caught hunting the bastard of Bolton.
Sandor took a step forward, but he stopped when he saw that Theon held Sansa at
knifepoint.
“Ser Rodrik, it grieves me that we meet as foes,” Theon said and the remaining
Ironborn slowly retreated back to their leader, while the men of Winterfell
gathered around Sandor and Ser Rodrik.
Sandor heart rate raised when he saw that Sansa was shaking.
“It grieves me you've less honor than a common whore. You were raised here
under this roof,” Ser Rodrik yelled back.
“These people are your people,” he added gesturing around.
 “They are not my people!”
“King Robb thought of you as a brother.”
“My brothers are dead. They died fighting Stark men, men like you.”
“Aye, they died fighting a war your father started. Lord Stark raised you among
his own sons. Alongside his daughters,” Rodrik said.
“Among them, but not one of them. I was his hostage, taken from my home. I was
merely a boy, taken from my home. Forced to live in this place!”
“If he were alive to see this…”
“He's not. He's dead. The Seven Kingdoms are at war. And Winterfell is mine.
Now put down your swords or I’ll cut her throat. My sister is on her way with
five hundred men from Deepwood Motte. She will be here within days.”
“I should have put a sword in your belly instead of in your hand.”
“You've served this house faithfully, old man. Give me Clegane’s head, before
putting down your weapons and I promise to give you and your men mercy,” Theon
announced.
“Noooo,” Sansa sobbed and Theon pressed the blade tighter against her throat.
“If you hurt her I will fucking kill you!” Sandor yelled, clutching the pommel
of his sword tighter.
Reek was smirking cruelly next to Theon. He looked like he was entertained by
the whole situation.
“Last chance Ser Rodrik. Tell your men to put down their weapons,” Theon said
holding his dagger tighter to Sansa’s throat.
Sandor exchanged short looks with Ser Rodrik. He had no idea how this situation
could be solved without risking Sansa, when he saw a movement close to Theon in
the shadows.
“Sansa,” Sandor said. “look at me.”
Sansa’s red rimmed eyes focused on him.
“All will be good little bird. You trust me?” Sandor asked and he saw that
Sansa was nodding carefully, to not cut herself on Theon’s dagger.
“Last chance,” Theon announced. “I don’t want to spill her blood, but I will if
you refuse to listen.”
“Sansa what’s you direwolve’s name?” Sandor asked.
“Lady,” Sansa whimpered.
“Louder!” Sandor yelled.
“Lady!” Sansa yelled at top of her lungs with all desperation that had built up
in her.
Within the blink of an eye Sansa’s giant direwolf rushed forward out of the
shadow towards Theon, whose eyes widened in shock.
He pushed Sansa away trying to defend himself against Sansa’s direwolf, but
Lady already sank her teeth into the arm that was holding the dagger. Sansa
yelped while she fell down on the muddy ground of the courtyard.
Sandor, Ser Rodrik and his men immediately took this opportunity to storm
forward and attack the Ironborn that were stunned.
Sandor saw that Reek tried to attack Lady, but Sansa’s direwolf swiftly
released Theon’s arm and assailed Reek sinking her fangs between his head and
shoulder tearing him to pieces.
The remaining Ironborn were quickly overwhelmed and cut down. When Sandor
pulled his sword out of the body off his last kill, he looked over to Reek,
seeing that he was hardly recognizable as a human being anymore. Lady had only
left a bloody mess.
Theon was moaning in pain, holding his arm. Sandor let his sword fall to the
ground and couldn’t contain the hate he felt for that buggering squid anymore.
He walked over towards Theon, who held up his unharmed hand in defense.
“No Clegane, I would never have…” he started but Sandor fist already met his
face, that had always used to look so very smug and superior.
Sandor let it all out, he only stopped raining down punches when he heard
Sansa’s soft voice call out his name.
It was like he was brought back to reality and looked down at the face of the
man he had just beaten to pulp. Theon was still alive and moaning in agony.
Sandor’s hands were covered in blood and his knuckles hurt from all the
punches. He turned around and saw Sansa sitting down on the ground where she
had fallen after Theon’s push.
Lady was at her side gently nuzzling Sansa. Lady’s fur was soaked in blood, but
Sansa’s direwolf was back to her gentle behavior now that she knew her master
wasn’t in danger anymore.
He was on his knees next to her within a moment, looking up and down at her to
make sure she wasn’t hurt.
“You are safe now little bird. You are safe,” he said, cupping her cheek with
his palm leaning his forehead against hers.
“I know Sandor. You saved me,” she breathed in relief. “Are Bran and Rickon
with you?” she asked.
“They are. They were able to escape with the Reeds and Osha.”
“Good, I was afraid for them.”
Sandor got up from the ground and helped Sansa up too. The people of Winterfell
gathered around them and Maester Luwin came to take care of the wounded men.
“Winterfell is ours,” Ser Rodrik declared cheerful and the men started to cheer
alongside the servants.
“Ser Rodrik,” Sansa said. “Put Theon to chains until Robb returns to deal with
him.”
“Aye, my lady. Alyn and Wyl. Take him.”
Ser Rodrik’s men nodded and picked up Theon from the ground leaving for the
dungeons.
“We must prepare for his sister’s arrival,” Sandor said and Ser Rodrik agreed,
but Maester Luwin interrupted them.
“Theon’s sister doesn’t know he is here. He ordered me to send ravens, but the
men he sent with me to oversee the letters couldn’t read so I only sent a
letter with random words.”
Sansa held onto his arm and looked over to the bloody mess Lady had made of
Reek.
“His name wasn’t Reek,” Sansa said pointing to the remains. “He told me his
name was Ramsay.”
“So, this was the bastard of Bolton,” Sandor said. “He played us for fools.”
“He is dead, it doesn’t matter now,” Ser Rodrik said. “We still have to write
Lord Stark about this.”
“Aye, but for now Winterfell is safe,” Sandor said and the people of Winterfell
started to cheer celebrating their victory.
 
 
***** Sansa *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Sansa had asked the servants to bring the largest copper tub they could find to
her chamber and fill it with hot water.
Over the last two or three hours she had stayed close to Sandor and it had
calmed her nerves after the events that had gone down only hours before.
Bran and Rickon had returned to Winterfell shorty after it had been confirmed
that Winterfell was completely safe again.
Maester Luwin had immediately sent a raven to Robb, informing him of Theon’s
betrayal and the events that had followed.
Ser Rodrik’s men had immediately started to collect the dead bodies and burn
them outside the castle. Meanwhile Mikken had repaired the gate, they had
sabotaged before to give Sandor and Ser Rodrik access to the castle.
At first Sansa had felt like her head was under water. She had never been this
afraid before in her life and it had taken a while for her legs to stop feeling
like pudding.
Sandor had obviously sensed that she would need some time to calm her nerves
down. They went to the godswood with Lady to clean out the dried blood and gore
out of her fur.
Her large wolf had happily jumped into one of the hot springs and stayed close
to the edge to allow Sansa to wash out her fur.
Sandor had sat by her side all the time. The feeling of safety had ultimately
made her calm down again, enough to notice that her dress was crusted in mud,
as was some of her hair and hands.
It was then she remembered that Theon had pushed her into the mud. It was also
then that she noticed that Sandor’s face was covered with blood stains, just as
much as his armor. His hands were also red with blood and his knuckles were raw
from punching Theon all over again.
Sansa cupped her husband’s face on the scarred side and suggested that they
both needed a bath.
The servants poured the last bucket of hot water into the tub and left their
room.
Sandor had already gotten rid of his armor and stretched his limbs with a sigh.
Sansa saw that his tunic was stained with blood, where it had gotten through
his armor.
The sun had started to set. Winterfell was in relative peace again, everybody
was still under the influence of the last couple of days, but its people
returned to their work as usual.
There wouldn’t be a large dinner though. Bran had ordered that the servants
wouldn’t have to fulfill all duties today and should spend some time with their
own families.
Because of that Jeyne had brought them two trays of food, with some mulled
wine, fresh bread and butter, cold roasts and some dry sausages alongside a
small round cheese. There were also some pears and apples and a jug of honey
sweetened milk.
Lady was peacefully sleeping in front of the crackling fire Sandor had started
in the fireplace. Her fur was nearly dry again and her ear twitched sometimes
while she was sleeping, making Sansa smile.
Sandor got rid of his boots and pulled his tunic over his head.
“Can you help me with the laces?” Sansa asked already turning around.
“Of course, my love,” he said his finger started to undo the laces. At first a
little clumsy, but as soon as he understood how it was laced, he quickly
loosened them.
Sandor carefully pushed her dress aside a little to expose her neck and
shoulder and Sansa hummed when he pressed several kisses to her exposed skin.
Sandor got rid of the rest of his clothes and sank into the hot water with a
satisfied sigh.
Sansa let her dress fall to the ground and got rid of her stockings, shift and
smallclothes. Sansa saw that she had some bruises from being pushed around the
last couple of days.
Sansa got into the tub herself and she leaned back against Sandor’s chest.
“Have they hurt you?” he asked softly carefully touching some bruises on her
upper arm.
“No, that one Ironborn just grabbed my arm too tight when he locked me up in my
room.”
Sandor wrapped his arms around her and Sansa closed her eyes for a short moment
to enjoy the closeness.
Sansa could literally feel how the dirt was leaving her skin while she soaked
in. She sunk in a little deeper to allow her hair to soak before she turned
around in the tub, facing Sandor.
“I’ve would never have expected for Lady to save me,” Sansa said. “She is just
a gentle giant.”
“I know,” Sandor said. “That’s why I taught her to defend you when I am not
around or not able to.”
“But how? When?” Sansa asked surprised.
“After we married. I started in the weeks before we traveled and then every now
and then. Lady quickly learned. She is a smart animal.”
“She is indeed,” Sansa said and leaned forward to kiss Sandor. “Thank you for
that,” she added after their lips parted.
“You’re welcome little bird.”
Sansa took a sponge from the side table and soaked it in the warm water,
started to gently wash away the dried blood of Sandor’s face.
After Sansa put away the sponge Sandor pulled her closer to him and held her
against his chest as they started to exchange kisses.
They were interrupted by the sound of Sandor’s growling stomach, making Sansa
chuckle.
“It seems somebody is hungry,” she asked smirking.
“Aye, it has been a long day.”
Sansa got out of the tub first, followed by Sandor. Lady only looked up for a
second, to see what had caused the noise, only to continue sleeping moments
after.
Sansa and Sandor faced each other. She looked up into his grey and he looked
down into her blue. Both of them were smiling. His wet hair was clinging to his
head, just as hers was to her. Water drops were running down their skin.
Sandor embraced her and they exchanged hungry kisses. She felt his warm hands
on her back and she exposed her throat, which he immediately started to pepper
with kisses.
She felt her knees shake lightly in excitement and she placed one of her hands
on his chest closing her eyes at the feeling of his kisses on her throat.
She pressed herself closer to him and she felt his hard member brush against
her.
Sansa’s hand traveled over Sandor’s chest down over his stomach. She brushed
over his member with the tips of her fingers and she felt it twitch underneath
them.
Sansa became bolder and wrapped her fingers around it, stroking it, making
Sandor moan.
“Gods little bird,” he breathed picking her up in his strong arms in a swift
move.
Sansa laughed lightly as he quickly made his way over to their bed putting her
down on the soft furs.
She already felt a wetness that wasn’t water pool between her thighs. Sandor
got onto the bed too and kissed the inside of her thighs and Sansa parted her
legs more to give Sandor more access.
Usually their marital activities always started with him giving her the lord’s
kiss , but tonight she wanted to feel him inside her.
Sansa pulled him for another kiss and she whispered into his ear that she
wanted him.
She felt him brush with his tip against her entrance, before he slowly entered
her.
Sansa flung her arms around his neck and he buried his face in the crook of her
neck. Her right hand was buried in his hair while she stroked with the other
over his back while he buried himself inside her with a constant pace.
Sansa was surrounded by his warmth and scent she soon felt her first peak build
up in her. Encouraged by Sansa’s moans Sandor raised his pace and Sansa buried
her nails in his back.
Sansa heard his breathing become heavier and she knew he would reach his peak
soon too.
“Sandor…” she breathed. “Don’t stop. I am close…”
And her husband happily obeyed her wishes. She felt herself clench around him
and pulses of pleasure flooded through every part of her body.
Sandor found his completion with some grunts shortly after, collapsing on top
of her.
He was breathing heavily into the crook of her neck, while she lightly
scratched his scalp with her fingers, before he rolled of her.
“I love you little bird,” he said.
“I love you too Sandor,” she breathed. “That was fantastic.”
“Aye it was.”
Sansa’s mouth felt dry and she got out of bed. She walked over to the table,
where Jeyne had left the trays of food earlier.
Sansa poured herself a cup of the sweetened milk and Sandor a cup of the mulled
wine, that was still warm, though not hot anymore.
Sansa handed Sandor his cup and he took a deep gulp after thanking her. She
returned to the table and prepared them each a plate, while Sandor watched her
with a warm smile playing around his lips.
She handed him his plate and sat down on the bed. They ate for a while in
silence, exchanging small smiles from time to time.
“I’ll write to Robb,” Sansa said after a while.
“What will you write him?” Sandor asked.
“I will tell him how brave you were and how you saved our home. Word will
spread and that will be showing the North your worth, my love.”
“We will see,” he said.
“Trust me,” she said smiling warmly.
“I trust you.”
They finished their dinner and Sandor took the plates and put them back down on
the table, before he joined Sansa again.
“I asked Mikken to make a new sword for you,” Sansa then said. She had asked
Winterfell's blacksmith to forge a new sword for Sandor the day he had left for
Torren’s Square.
“You did?” he asked surprised and curious.
“Yes, my father used to say that Mikken’s sword were the best you could get
besides valyrian steel.”
“Thank you, little bird,” he said kissing her cheek.
“Your welcome. Mikken said he knows exactly how large he has to forge it, for
you. He said it would only take about a month to finish it,” Sansa explained.
“I hope you will like it.”
“I definitely will like it. It will be from you,” he said warmly and held out
his arm for her to snuggle up, which she did happily.
Sansa placed her head on his chest and stroked through his chest hair with her
index finger.
“I also thought about a new sigil for our House Clegane,” she said. Sandor was
quiet for a moment. “I thought it would be nice to different from the southern
house Clegane.”
“What have you in mind, Sansa?” he asked and Sansa got out of bed and went over
to her dressing table, where she had her sewing and embroidering needles,
getting a piece of cloth out of the small box, returning to her husband.
“Here,” she said and handed him the handkerchief she had embroidered with her
idea.
Sandor touched the white cloth, where two yellow hounds and one black direwolf
were embroidered onto.
“The hounds are for your house and the black wolf is for mine,” she explained.
“And the white…”
“Is for the snow of the North. Our home,” he finished for her and Sansa smiled
nodding.
“What do you think?” Sansa asked.
“I like it,” he said. “I really do. I think it’s good if we change our current
Clegane sigil, to your idea.”
“I am happy you like it,” Sansa said and kissed him deeply, lying sprawled over
his body.
She could feel him harden under her again and she shifted a little, looking
down at his already half hard member.
“Looks like somebody is ready for another round,” Sansa said smirking, taking
his member into her hand and giving him some slow strokes.
“You will be the death of me little bird,” Sandor moaned and Sansa pressed her
lips against his again.
Sansa pressed some kisses onto his chest before kissing her way down to his
groin. She licked her lips and pressed some kisses on the tip of his member,
before she wrapped her lips around him and started to suck on its head, while
she still slowly moved her hand up and down his shaft.
Sandor groaned deeply as she let her tongue circle around his tip, before
letting his member slip out of her mouth.
Sansa was already wet again and she got up to straddle him.
She sank down on his member and Sandor held her by her hip with one hand while
the other touched her breast, teasing her nipple with his thumb.
Sansa rhythmically ground herself against him and threw her head back when she
felt herself come close to release.
“Come for me, little bird,” he breathed underneath her and Sansa moaned his
name as pleasure washed over her.
Sansa came back to her senses and looked down to Sandor who was watching her in
awe. Her hair was a little tangled and her face had a rosy color tone, while
she still slowly ground herself against him.
Sandor sat up, picking her up and turned her around on the bed. He kissed her
deeply as he started to trust inside her.
“Now come for me love,” Sansa whispered into his ear and only moments later he
found his own completion for the second time this evening.
He rolled off her and they both got under the warm furs. Sansa snuggled up
closely to him and he pressed a kiss to her head after burying his nose in the
crown of her hair, taking in her scent.
“I love you, Sansa,” he said sleepy.
“I love you too, Sandor,” she said. “It’s good that you are here with me.”
“I am happy to be here again too.”
Sansa felt herself become sleepy and she could hear him breathing behind her.
“Good night, Sandor,” she said barely awake. “Sleep well.”
“You too, my love,” he yawned.
Sansa fell asleep with a smile playing around her lips.
Chapter End Notes
     New PoV next chapter! :)
***** Robb *****
Chapter Notes
     For @Lalelilolu Happy Birthday my love!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Robb could see his breath in the cold morning air, while he sat on the back of
his stallion.
This war had made him the man his father had wanted him to become. He had
fought. He had killed. And men had been sent to their graves by his decisions
and orders.
His father had taught him well in warfare and he had been able to win several
battles against all odds.
First against the Kingslayer, who now was his prisoner in the dungeons of
Riverrun and one even greater at Oxcross.
The land had been soaked in Lannister blood, but it didn’t matter how much of
them he slaughtered it wouldn’t be enough to replace the father that had been
taken from him and his siblings.
Today though would be the day of the last battle against the Lannisters. After
his victory at Oxcross he had led his army through the Westerlands and up and
down the coast, isolating Lannisport from supplies, forcing Lord Tywin to lead
his army back into his own territory, leaving King’s Landing without any
defense.
Stannis Baratheon hadn’t written in weeks and Robb hoped he would be able to
fight his decisive battle in the east, while he distracted the old lion.
At first the Lords had seen him as a green boy, but after the capture of Jaime
Lannister and the complete annihilation of his army, nobody doubted his skill
as a general.
To be honest he had been uncertain if his plan would work. Lord Tywin was one
of the smartest men in Westeros and it wouldn’t have been surprising if he
didn’t take the bait to come back west and decided to face Stannis Baratheon
instead.
Robb inwardly cursed his aunt Lysa. His mother hadn’t been able to convince her
to raise her banners in his support. Robb had written her too, as had the
Blackfish and his uncle Edmure, but nobody had been able to convince her to
stand up against the Lannisters.
She was too concerned for her weakly son. His mother had told him everything
she had witnessed during her visit in the Eyrie.
With the knights of the Vale behind him he would have been able to defeat the
Lannisters with ease.
His father had grown up in the Vale and he had often told Robb stories from his
childhood as ward of Jon Arryn.
Robb was sure the old friends of his father would have taken up arms against
the Lannister to avenge their old friend.
It didn’t matter now. He stood alone with the Northerners and the Riverlords
against Lord Tywin.
He had taken twenty thousand men south with him. He hadn’t had time to wait to
gather more. He thought if he marched south rather quickly he would have been
able to free his father.
He had been able to strengthen his ranks with several thousand Freys after his
mother had brokered the marriage contract and the other Riverlords had brought
even more men, when he had lifted the siege of Riverrun.
The two larger battles and several smaller encounters have not been won without
losses, but he had hoped that he could rely on reinforcements from the North
later or support from Vale.
The Vale had been lost to him and his hopes of fresh men from the North had
been crushed, when word from Theon’s betrayal had come south.
At first, he had refused to believe it. Robb had thought it was misleading
information in the aftermath of Ramsay Snow’s rampage through the North.
When the Raven with the letter from Maester Luwin had arrived, informing him of
what had happened in the North with the bastard of the Dreadfort, he had
ordered Lord Bolton to answer some questions. Roose Bolton had returned to the
bulk of Robb’s army with his men, alongside Lord Karstark’s after they had
fought the battle on the shore of the Trident to distract Lord Tywin to make it
possible for Robb to attack Riverrun undetected.
It had been obvious to Robb that Lord Bolton hated that his bastard had brought
attention to him. Ned had always taught him that Roose Bolton always paid his
taxes in time and never brought any attention to himself. He preferred a
peaceful land and quiet people.
Lord Bolton had barely shown any reaction at all when Robb had told him that
his bastard son and only potential heir had been killed. He only declared that
his children by his Frey bride would become his heirs.
Robb couldn’t prove that Roose Bolton had any knowledge about his bastard’s
doing, but he had ordered Lord Umber to keep an eye on him.
Theon’s betrayal still weighed heavy on Robb’s shoulder. He had thought him a
brother and not even in his dreams he would have imagined that Theon would
attack the North.
When the news of the attacks on the Stony Coast, Deepwood Motte and Moat Cailin
had been confirmed, he still had thought that it was just an attack by Lord
Balon and that Theon had no knowledge about it. When the news had arrived that
Winterfell had been taken he had to realize that Theon had really betrayed him.
It was made worse by the fact that Bran, Rickon and Sansa had been taken
prisoner by Prince Theon. He would take Theon’s head for that.
He would look Theon in the eyes and ask him why he did it, before he would take
his head like it was his duty as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.
Robb had only hoped that his siblings would be alright and that Ser Rodrik
would be somehow able to retake the castle and save them. Maybe Sansa’s husband
would be useful too. He was a very skilled warrior after all.
Fueled by his hate for Theon, Robb had lead the attack on the Crag, the castle
of house Westerling himself.
He had taken more risk than usual during the attack and he had nearly paid with
his life for it.
If the archer targeting him aimed better, he would now be dead, but instead the
arrow had hit his shoulder.
The castle had fallen shortly after and the soldiers of House Westerling put
down their weapons.
Shortly after Lord Gawen Westerling had surrendered officially, a rider from
Riverrun had arrived carrying a letter from Maester Luwin and Sansa.
Robb had read the letter from Winterfell’s maester in front of the northern
Lords, telling them how Winterfell had been bravely retaken by Ser Rodrik
Cassel and Lord Sandor Clegane, killing all Ironborn in battle.
The Lords had cheered and celebrated that Ironborn had been driven out of
Winterfell. Robb added the details provided by Sansa’s letter, Clegane had
fought like a mad man to save her, many Lords had nodded in approval.
The way Sansa wrote about Clegane made him think that she had really grown fond
of him. Maybe she even was in love with him. The thought that his sister had
found love in this unusual match gave him a warm feeling in his chest.
As long as he could remember, Sansa had always dreamed of falling in love and
have her family of her own. With joy he remembered all the times they used to
play knights who saved the fair maiden from the evil knight.
It was good to know that Sansa was in good hands.
Robb had decided that they would stay in the Crag one night, while the soldiers
were supplied outside to prepare them for the final stages of this war.
Lord and Lady Westerling had prepared a small feast for the noblemen in all
haste and the lords enjoyed the wine and food, after weeks or months in the
field.
Robb though had left the feast relatively early and went to the room he had
been given.
His wound had hurt him and he needed rest so it could heal soon rather than
late. When he had lay in bed, his thoughts had circled around plans for the
next battle, when the door had silently opened.
Robb had been alarmed in an instant and pulled his dagger, but instead of an
assassin he had only seen the daughter of Lord Westerling.
He had asked her what she wanted in his chamber and she had told him that she
was concerned for his wound and wanted to check on it.
At first Robb had reluctantly allowed it and Jeyne had changed his bandages.
Jeyne was a pretty girl, brown chestnut curls, a heart shaped face and big
brown eyes. She was about Sansa’s age and when she had been done with his
bandages, he had no idea how they had ended up kissing.
It wasn’t like Jeyne was the first girl he had kissed. Theon and he had gone
every now and then to the brothel in Wintertown. Theon had always boasted what
talented lover he was and that Ros always screamed his name when he fucked her.
While Robb certainly had satisfied his needs with the services the girls
offered, but he had never actually bedded a woman.
He had always thought that his future lady wife would be his first, while he
would be hers.
But when Jeyne stroked through his long hair while kissing him, he remembered
that he was already betrothed…to a Frey daughter.
Robb had tried to not think about his betrothed during the war. He was
surrounded by Freys every day and if she was like her brothers and cousins in
any way he already pitied himself.
He wasn’t sure if he would be able to do the duty of fathering an heir for
house Stark if his wife had the weasel look that was the distinct feature of
most Freys.
When Jeyne started to untie the laces of her dress, it hadn’t taken long for
both of them to lie completely naked between the sheets.
The feeling of her soft hands on his skin, her breasts pressed against his
chest, his cock brushing against her legs and soft curls of her sex, combined
with her sweet smell had managed to let every thought of what was right and
wrong disappear.
The next morning, he had woken up with Jeyne curled against his chest. It was
this very moment he realized what he had done.
He had slept with this young woman. Furthermore, he had deflowered her. The
daughter of a noble house.
He had dishonored her and ruined any chances for her parents to make a good
match for her.
At first, he had hoped that he had dreamed it all and that they had just fallen
asleep, but the blood marks on the white sheets proved that he had taken her
maidenhead.
When Jeyne had awoken, she hadn’t been mad at him. Robb felt like she didn’t
realize in that moment what the prior night meant for her.
Robb had asked himself what his father would have done. What if he had fathered
a child last night? To take her maidenhead was one thing, but leave a young
woman, as old as his sister with his bastard was another.
He had thought about marrying her for a short moment. It would be honorable and
it would prevent her reputation from being ruined. It could be done quick
before her parents or anyone could prevent it.
But then he had realized that his father wouldn’t approve of his idea. He was
promised to another and he had given his word. It was his duty and even though
his future bride might look like a typical Frey, he had made a promise to wed
her.
He would do his duty, just like Sansa had done hers when King Robert had
betrothed her to Clegane.  Sansa had accepted her fate and it seemed that it
had lead into a loving marriage.
Robb would try to develop the same with his future bride.
He would live with the shame of what he had done and every time he would bed
his future wife he would remember the last night as his most shameful mistake.
When Robb had left the Crag behind to march into this battle, Jeyne had stood
crying on top of the gate. He didn’t know if she had expected him to take her
with him or if she had finally realized what the loss of her maidenhead meant
for her future. Robb would never forget her face with the red rimmed brown eyes
he gotten lost in the night before.
That had been two weeks ago and now he was awaiting the old Lion.
The sound of ten thousand boots on the ground could already be heard in the
distance and Robb repeated his battle plan in his mind.
If his plan would bear fruits, Lord Tywin wouldn’t be able to use his superior
heavy cavalry to crush them. Instead Robb would be able to surround the
Lannisters and get the decisive victory that would end the war.
He knew that he hadn’t as much men as Lord Tywin and that his men weren’t as
well equipped as their counterparts from the west, but they fought for a just
cause and the bravery of the Northmen would hopefully lead them the victory.
The Lannister army finally came in sight and it looked like a giant red wave of
men rolling towards them.
The golden details of the armors were shining in the morning sun and hundreds
of banners, displaying the proud lion were waving in the air.
Robb was ready to give the order to attack, when the Lannister army came to a
halt a few hundred meters away and a single rider approached them.
“What do you want?!” Lord Umber yelled at him as the rider stopped only twenty
meters away from the first line.
“I am Ser Kevan Lannister. My brother Lord Tywin Lannister sends me to ask Lord
Stark for a meeting.”
Robb looked over to the Blackfish, who frowned at the question.
“It could be a trap,” he said and some of the Lords muttered their agreement.
Robb was thinking. Why would Lord Tywin ask for a negotiation now? Could it be
a trap, to kill Robb and cut off the head of the Northern army?
Robb knew well enough the history of Houses Reyne and Tarbeck and what faith
they had met.
Still, Robb had the advantage. He had chosen this battlefield because it
supported his way of fighting. Lord Tywin must know this too.
“Lord Stark,” Ser Kevan said. “What shall I tell my brother?”
“Tell him I will meet with him. No soldiers. Both parties are allowed to bring
one additional man for the negotiations. I’ll tell my men to erect a tent in
the middle of the field. We meet there in half an hour. If this is a trap,
winter will come for the Westerlands. If Lord Tywin accepts he shall send one
high lord as hostage as I will send one for the time of the meeting.”
Ser Kevan nodded and turned his horse around riding back to the lines. Shortly
after another single rider approached.
“I am Ser Addam Marbrand. I was sent by Lord Lannister as hostage. He accepts
your conditions.”
Robb gave the order and a dozen men carried a tend onto the field between the
armies and started to erect it.
Robb turned to his lords.
“I will take the Blackfish with me. Lord Glover will be the hostage.”
“Aye Lord Stark,” Lord Glover said without doubt in his voice. He was glad that
he could rely on the loyalty of house Glover.
After the tent was erected, Robb’s men returned and he saw that two riders
approached the tent. Lord Tywin’s golden armor reflected the light and Robb
nodded to the Blackfish and Lord Glover that it was time to go themselves.
As they reached the tent Lord Glover nodded to them and rode further ahead to
the Lannister lines.
Robb and the Blackfish tied up their horses and carefully entered the tent.
“Lord Stark,” Lord Tywin said taking off his helmet. He had brought his brother
Kevan with him.
“Lord Lannister,” Robb said dryly.
A table had been placed in the center of the tent with four chairs. Lord Tywin
was a rather impressing man considering his age.
“Ser Brynden,” Lord Tywin said and the Blackfish only nodded.
“What do you want Lord Lannister? You asked for this meeting, not me,” Robb
said and all men sat down at the table.
“I must say I am impressed by you Lord Stark. I thought you a green boy when
this war started, but you won every battle and have taken my son prisoner,”
Lord Tywin said. His voice didn’t sound mocking in any way. He sounded
genuinely impressed.
“That doesn’t answer my question. Why do you want to negotiate?”
“This war will soon come to its end and as much as it goes against my nature I
have to say that it doesn’t make sense for me to continue this war. I didn’t
start it , but I fought for the interests of my house. Now it’s time to make
peace.”
Robb and the Blackfish shot each other a glance. Was Lord Tywin really just
saying that he wanted to make peace?
“Why now?” the Blackfish asked.
“Haven’t you heard?” Ser Kevan asked.
“Heard what, Lannister?” the Blackfish gave back.
“The Tyrells have been beaten and King’s Landing will fall soon, no matter if
we fight or not. Joffrey’s reign comes to an end and I want house Lannister to
endure. Just like Loren the Last did as he bent the knee to Aegon Targaryen and
his dragons after the field of fire,” Tywin explained.
“I will have your grandson’s head for the murder of my father,” Robb said.
“That isn’t my concern. It was a foolish move of him to execute your father. It
made the conflict escalate, just like the actions of the Mad King had in the
past. I blame my daughter for Joffrey’s stupidity,” Tywin explained further and
Robb was strangely fascinated that Lord Tywin already had accepted that his
grandson and daughter would die.
Lord Tywin folded his hands on the table.
“We can end this unfortunate war between our houses here and now. Let’s
negotiate the conditions for peace.”
Robb was silent for a moment, while he tried to recall every lesson he had
gotten from his father in diplomacy. This was the best possible outcome to this
war. If he played his cards right he could make sure House Stark and the North
would benefit from this war. Lord Tywin speculated that he wouldn’t demand
anything, Robb though would make sure that this war wouldn’t have been for
nothing.
“We will have peace if you agree to the following conditions,” Robb started and
Lord Tywin nodded.
“First of all, you will pay for all damage that has been done in the
Riverlands. Second, you will pay Lord Karstark ten thousand gold dragons for
the two sons that have been killed by the hand of your son. Third, house Stark
will be payed hundred thousand gold dragons, as compensation for the harvests
that have been lost due to the men being in war. That are the conditions for
peace.”
Lord Tywin seemed to think about these conditions for a moment.
“You can have them all if you comply with my conditions,” Tywin said. “I demand
my son Jaime to be released and returned to me. And secondly, I want you to
influence King Gendry to give generous conditions for peace. He will be your
sister’s husband after all.”
“I accept these under the conditions that your son Jaime will marry Jeyne
Westerling as soon as he returns to you. These terms will serve both of our
interests.”
“Why should I accept my son, the heir of Casterly Rock, being married to the
daughter of a minor house?”
“If you accept I will make sure that nobody continues to dig into the rumors of
the improper relationship between your twins.”
Lord Tywin grinded his jaws.
“Alright, Lord Stark. I accept these conditions. We will have peace to these
terms,” Lord Tywin said and raised from the table, his brother, Robb and the
Blackfish did the same.
Lord Tywin pulled off his armored glove and held out his hand. Robb did the
same with his leather glove and with the shake of a hand the war between House
Stark and Lannister ended.
Chapter End Notes
     Another new PoV in the next chapter!
***** Stannis *****
The last battle had been fought. The short terror reign of the usurper Joffrey
Baratheon had come to an end and with it the bloodiest war since the Rebellion
against the Mad King.
Now the reign of Gendry of House Baratheon, first of his name, would begin.
Stannis was riding alongside Gendry towards the Red Keep. The small folk was
cheering for their new king in the streets and people were throwing petals from
the balconies above them.
Just like Robert, Gendry was able to spread loyalty wherever he went.
As soon as Stannis had arrived with Gendry in Storm’s End every man had sworn
their loyalty to their death for him.
Originally Stannis had expected some kind of guardedness towards Gendry, but
instead he had awoken the same loyalty Robert had about twenty years ago, when
he had called the banner against the Mad King.
Back then Stannis had been torn apart, between the loyalty to his elder brother
and the loyalty he had to the crown, but in the end, he had chosen blood over
duty.
This time it had been the same. Gendry was his King, just like he was his
nephew.
The Lords of the Stormlands quickly answered the call for aid. Words of Gendry
being young Robert Baratheon was spreading and Stannis couldn’t help to feel
like it had during Robert's Rebellion.
A Tyrell army was marching towards Storm’s End and Stannis had advised Gendry
that they had to march north towards the capital, before they would get
besieged.
It was Stannis’ greatest fear to be trapped inside Storm’s End once more.
Seeing men dying by starvation with no sign of hope.
This time if they got trapped inside the castle, they couldn’t expect any
outside help. The young wolf was fighting against the Lannisters and even
though Stannis was impressed by Stark’s victories against Jaime Lannister, he
had his doubts that he would be able to win against Lord Tywin.
Gendry has listened to his advice, but instead of marching north he had faced
the Tyrell army at Summerhall, just like Robert had. Just like his father
Gendry fought bravely in the first line, against Stannis advice with his
hammer. The sight of Gendry swinging his hammer, had brought fear within the
hearts of the Tyrell men, some of them remembering Robert Baratheon.
It had been a swift victory, but instead of pushing west, like Robert had,
Gendry listened to Stannis’ advice to wait until they had more men.
Stannis was glad that Gendry was like a better version of Robert.
Within a month they had been able to gather about thirty thousand men of the
Stormlands under Gendry’s banner. Ser Davos had been able to use some of his
old smuggler contacts to win several well-known pirates for their cause,
supporting them with the ships they would need to take King’s Landing.
Stannis had been in constant contact with the young wolf via the ravens he
sends to Riverrun, that way they had been able to organize their next moves.
Lord Stark had suggested to lure Lord Tywin into the Westerlands, so Stannis
and Gendry could march towards the capital without having to fear being
attacked from behind while crossing the Blackwater.
Stannis had been uncertain, but Gendry trusted the brother of his betrothed.
They only had to defeat the Tyrells first and the way to King’s Landing would
be free.
Stannis and Gendry had decided to meet the Tyrell army at Ashford, but they had
only found a small portion of the Tyrell army that had been left behind to slow
them down. Leaving the bulk of the Tyrell army available to march north and
defend King’s Landing.
Against the whole strength of the Stormlands, the men left behind at Ashford
had preferred to put down their weapons and change side, hailing Gendry their
King.
Stannis and Gendry had decided to quickly march after the Tyrells and they had
managed to catch up with them at Bitterbridge forcing the battle to happen,
before the Tyrells had been ready.
The battle was short and brutal but Lord Mace Tyrell ultimately decided to bend
the knee and accept Gendry as the one true King.
Lord Tyrell had probably expected he would get the same lax treatment Robert
had given him after the Rebellion.
Stannis convinced Gendry to demand that Kings Landing would be supplied by the
Tyrells for the next ten years without any compensation. Furthermore, Lord
Tyrell’s eldest son Willas was to be sent to King’s Landing and would get a
seat on the small council, even though it was an unspoken fact that he would be
a hostage of the crown for the loyalty of the Reach. Alongside Willas, Lord
Tyrell's daughter Margaery would become a lady-in-waiting for the future queen
until she was married to whoever the crown saw fit. That of course would only
be the case after she had become a widow, after Joffrey would be executed.
Mace Tyrell had no other choice but to accept and he had put his army under
Stannis’s command.
They had marched further north and their scouts reported that Robb Stark had
indeed managed to lure the old Lion into the west.
By now the news had reached Stannis that the Ironborn had attacked the North.
He had feared that it would cause Lord Stark to change his priorities towards
the North, but Lord Stark had kept his word allowing Stannis and Gendry to
continue north the Kingsroad without any trouble.
They had made camp on the southern shore of the Blackwater, waiting for Ser
Davos to arrive with the ships.
Stannis had discussed plans with Gendry about how to take the city with the
least amount of losses. Gendry had listened closely, making suggestions of his
own.
Stannis was suspicious because it seemed that the city had made no preparations
for a longer siege or extended their defenses in any way.
It didn’t matter now. Maybe Joffrey and his mad mother hadn’t made any
preparations, expecting Lord Tywin to safe them.
Stannis planned to take the city with the least number of casualties possible
and he advised Gendry to order all the Lords to tell their men that any act of
sacking and raping would be punished by death.
Gendry welcomed this suggestion. He didn’t want his reign to start like his
father’s had. This time the streets of King’s Landing wouldn’t be covered in
the blood of innocent civilians, while raped girls and women would cry for
their dead family members.
The day before they intended to attack the city a rider from the Westerlands
arrived under the banner of the direwolf, carrying Lord Stark's letter,
announcing that Lord Tywin had asked for peace, knowing that the capital would
fall before he would be able to prevent it.
At first Stannis hadn’t necessarily approved that Lord Stark had given Lord
Tywin some of his own conditions for peace, like allowing the Kingslayer to
return to Casterly Rock, but it was better to be at peace again with the
Westerlands than having to fight them. Stannis still would make sure that the
Westerlands and House Lannister would pay their debt for fighting against the
one true King of Westeros.
                                      ***
This morning they had rowed over the Blackwater rush and attacked the city
walls.
Cersei and Joffrey still had some tricks up their sleeves and so Stannis’ men
were caught off guard when catapults started to throw pods of wildfire at them.
Most of them missed, but several ships caught fire, burning men alive.
Gendry had insisted in attacking the walls himself, but Stannis had advised
against it. They couldn’t risk Gendry’s life now that victory was so close.
Only one arrow could undo everything they had fought for and so Gendry had
begrudgingly accepted to stay with Stannis on the other side of the river,
watching the battle from afar giving orders instead of fighting in the first
line.
The defenders, consisting of Gold Cloaks and green boys were quickly
overwhelmed by the sheer amount of men attacking the walls and gates.
The defenses completely scattered when Joffrey had left his men to fight alone,
while he retreated to the Red Keep.
At first Stannis had been concerned that the Red Keep would withstand them for
a longer period of time, but instead the gates had awaited them open.
Lord Varys had kept his word. He had contacted Stannis the night before with
one of his little birds, informing him that the gates of the Red Keep would be
open for the rightful king of Westeros when the time comes.
And indeed, the spider had kept word.
Gendry rode through the gates of the Red Keep first. Stannis followed right
behind him. Several servants were between the soldiers that had fought for
them, cheering for their king.
Gendry got off his horse first looking around, as if he was looking out for
something.
Varys stepped forward from the crowd and bowed his head, greeting his new king.
Stannis got of his horse and went over to where Gendry stood.
“Where is the Usurper?” Stannis asked and Lord Bryk Caron stepped forward.
“He locked himself in his rooms with members of his Kingsguard. We took Grand
Maester Pycelle prisoner, alongside Lord Baelish. They are guarded in the room
of the small council. We are still looking for Cersei Lannister though and men
are searching through the dungeons.”
“Put Joffrey in chains but keep him alive. I will deal with him later,” Gendry
declared.
“Your grace,” Lord Caron said bowing his head leaving with several men.
Stannis followed Gendry to the throne room. In their absence Joffrey had
changed the throne rooms interior.
Fires were burning in basins around the pillars sustaining the room and Stannis
couldn’t deny that the room felt like it had during the time of Aerys
Targaryen.
Gendry stopped in front of the steps leading up to the Iron Throne and he
turned around to Stannis with a questioning look. Stannis simply nodded
approvingly to encourage him and Gendry slowly, but with confident walked up
the stairs to the throne.
Gendry put down his heavy hammer next to the throne and the sound of the heavy
steel on the stones echoed through the empty throne room.
Stannis simply stood in silence as Gendry finally took his seat on the throne
that was his by right.
Gendry must have held his breath since he released it in relief.
Stannis approached the throne and bent the knee.
“Hail Gendry of House Baratheon. First of his name. Rightful King of the
Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of
the Realm,” Stannis said and Gendry gestured with his hand to get up.
“I couldn’t have made it without you uncle,” he said.
“I just did my duty to my King. Not more and not less.”
“Nevertheless, you did the realm and me a duty I can never repay. I can only
ask you to become the hand of the King and Lord of Storm’s End. Do you accept
my Lord?”
This was all Stannis had ever wanted. Being not overlooked. Robert had
overlooked him, when he had named Jon Arryn and Ned Stark his hands and given
Storm’s End to Renly.
Gendry had offered him both.
“I am honored and I accept your offer.”
“Your grace, my lord,” Ser Davos greeted them while entering the throne room.
“We searched the castle’s dungeons down to the black cells and we found
something your will be very interested in,” Davos said and Stannis was curious
about what they had found.
Stannis wasn’t a man that could be impressed easily, but he didn’t expect at
all what he would see when Davos’ men lead two men in front of the throne.
They were dirty and had long beards and felted hair.
One was Tyrion Lannister and the other one was no other than Eddard Stark, Lord
of Winterfell and Warden of the North.
***** Ned *****
Ned had no idea how much time had passed since he had been thrown into the
black cells until he was lead into the throne room Stannis Baratheon’s men.
Had it been months? A year? Even more?
Ned could not tell. In the darkness of the black, seconds became minutes,
minutes became hours and hours became days.
He still remembered how the dagger had felt against his throat, when
Littlefinger had betrayed him. Ned still hated himself for being this naïve
towards him.
When Robert had died and Joffrey had usurped the throne, Baelish had approached
him offering the Gold Cloaks to support him.
Baelish had told him told him of several outcomes but Ned had dismissed his
suggestions of keeping Joffrey in power for a time being.
Ned cursed himself. He should have expected Baelish to turn on him. It had cost
him dearly.
Varys had visited him in the black cells after a few days. He reported to him
that a large portion of his household had been slaughtered, while others had
been thrown into the dungeons.
Their deaths were weighing heavy on him. The only update he had gotten of the
world and the happenings outside had been when Tyrion Lannister had been put
into the black cells shortly after Varys had visited him.
Apparently, Lord Tywin had made him reigning hand of the king, but Lord
Tyrion's suggestion to make peace had made Joffrey throw him into the dungeons.
Lord Tyrion told him, that Joffrey used to torture one of Ned captured men to
death, every time Robb or Stannis won a battle.
Ned had taught Robb everything he knew about warfare, but there was still a
difference from learning about war to really going to war.
Especially since Robb would face some of the most experienced generals in
Westeros.
Lord Tyrion had told him that it had been Littlefinger as well, who had his
fingers in putting him into the Black Cells.
It was strange to have Lord Tyrion around all the time. They spend endless
hours talking about all and nothing. Tyrion had told him the truth about his
brother and the Mad King. Ned regretted not have asked Jaime Lannister what had
happened, judging him based on what Ned had seen.
This talk had happened when they had both realized that Robb would probably
soon face Ser Jaime and that it was highly probable that one of them would end
dead on the battlefield.
Ned had realized that behind the face of the japing dwarf sat the mind of one
of the smartest men of the seven kingdoms, even though the Imp couldn’t stop
talking about how he missed whores and wine.
Ned had missed Cat. He was sure that he would die in this cell and he would
never be able to bury his face in her hair that he loved so much.
He also hated that he wouldn’t be around to see his sons grow up into men, or
see his daughters start a family of their own.
The thought of Sansa surrounded by her children and her husband was the only
thing smoothing Ned’s fears.
He also regretted that he had never told Jon the truth about his mother. He had
promised him to talk the next time they would see each other, but now it had
been more than unlikely to ever happen.
He had kept his promise to Lyanna.
Over the months they had probably spend in the dungeons, someone has been
bringing them to eat and drink every few days, but never telling them anything
about what had been going on in the world.
So, when soldiers had found them and brought them to the throne room, Tyrion
and he had been more than surprised to find Gendry on the Throne with Stannis
by his side.
Apparently, the war was over and Gendry had claimed his rightful place on the
Iron Throne.
Gendry and Stannis told them everything would be explain during a dinner, after
Tyrion and he had the chance to clean up after months of sitting in their own
filth.
This had been when soldiers had come telling them they had found the dead
bodies of Cersei Lannister and Tommen Baratheon. Cersei had ended her life
poisoning herself and her son. Probably in fear they would be tortured or raped
before being killed by the soldiers taking the Red Keep.
Ned knew that Tyrion wouldn’t grieve for his sister, but he would for his
nephew. Luckily Myrcella had been sent to Dorne.
Gendry had been furious hearing this. Ned knew he had a good relationship with
Myrcella and Tommen, who had seen Gendry as their big brother, unlike Joffrey
had.
Gendry had stormed out of the throne room with his hammer in hand, heading for
the room where Joffrey had locked himself with the remaining members of the
Kingsguard.
Stannis had followed him with Davos and his men. Ned and Tyrion had followed as
well.
When they had reached the locked door, Gendry had yelled at Joffrey to give up,
but only insults had been yelled back from inside.
Ned had seen the same rage in Gendry’s eyes he had seen twenty years ago, when
Robert had faced Prince Rhaegar at the Trident.
Gendry had swung his hammer and the door had quickly turned into a pile of
splinters and lumber.
Only Ser Meryn had resisted, but he was quickly put in chains.
Joffrey still spat insults at Gendry as he was put into chains, but Gendry
knocked him out with a fist to his chin.
                                      ***
Shortly after Ned took his first bath in about a year, he had been told this
much time had passed since his imprisonment.
Before he had gone to the rooms they had been given, Tyrion and he had demanded
to get a quick summary of what has happened.
The war in the south was over, but the Greyjoys had rebelled again. Winterfell
had been attacked, but Stannis himself didn’t know about its current state.
Robb and Cat were alive and his eldest son had managed to defeat Lord Tywin and
signed a peace treaty with him. Stannis had said Robb, Cat and Lord Tywin were
on their way to the capital to officially end the war.
Arya was still safely on Dragonstone and would also be returning to the capital
with Lady Selyse and Shireen soon.
Ned had spent hours in the hot water soaking in before he let servants cut off
his felted hair, trimming his beard.
When he had joined Stannis and Gendry this evening he had felt like a human
being again for the first time in ages. Much to his surprise Varys was also
present. Stannis explained that the spider had a part in taking the city
without a long siege.
Tyrion and he had mostly listened at Gendry and Stannis explaining at length
how the war had gone, how Robb had showed his skills as general. How he had
defeated the Lannisters twice. Stannis always paralleled Gendry exploits at
Robert’s during the rebellion.
The topic that dominated the evening though was how Ned was still alive when he
apparently had been executed, causing the war to escalate.
For the world Ned had been dead. Ravens had carried the news all over Westeros,
but nobody had seen him die.
The head on top of the gate had been the only evidence for the world, but
nobody had been able to confirm that Ned had been executed for real.
Varys was the one to ask who had the biggest interest in Ned Stark’s death. In
the end they had come to the conclusion that only one man had a real interest
in Ned Stark's death. The man that had an eye on his wife since he had been a
boy and who had held a dagger against his throat.
Ned spoke his thoughts that Littlefinger probably had whispered the words into
Joffrey’s ear to have him executed, but in secret kept him alive so he had a
leverage in case he needed it.
Ned suspected that Littlefinger had intended to kill him and marry Catelyn once
she had become a widow. Another possibility would be that Littlefinger was
keeping him alive so House Stark him would owe him.
Ned had a feeling in his guts that Littlefinger would have intended to get
Sansa for himself, demanding his daughter marriage to be annulled.
In the end they had all agreed that Baelish was responsible for more than
enough events during this war to conclude that he had committed treason to the
crown.
This would be punished by death and Ned slept peaceful that night, knowing that
Baelish’s betrayal would end with justice.
                                      ***
A few weeks later Cat and Robb arrived alongside Lord Tywin and his delegation.
The Lords that accompanied Robb couldn’t believe their eyes, just like Robb and
Cat.
To be reunited with his wife and son had been the best feeling he had ever felt
his entire life.
The first evening they had spent alone as family. Ned explained everything that
had happened and what he had heard about Robbs victories.
Cat and Robb in return told him how Robb and Rickon were betrothed to Freys. 
They told him more detailed about Theon’s betrayal and how he took Winterfell
but had swiftly been defeated by Sansa’s husband and Ser Rodrik.
Ned remembered that he had to write to Ser Rodrik informing him that Jory was
alive and well alongside a few others, chosen for Joffrey’s sick games.
He would also write to the families of the men that had died under his command.
It had been his mistake and it was his duty to inform the families.
Robb had continued to explain how the old lion had accepted his conditions for
peace and that it would give the North financial security.
Ned was proud of his son and what he had achieved. He had proved himself as
Lord of Winterfell and Ned was sure he would lead the North wisely when he
would become his successor in the future.
The executions had been held the next morning after short trials. Pycelle
unfortunately had died the night before. Officially the cause of his death was
his old age, though some believed that he had been murdered by maidservants he
had used to molest.
Baelish tried to defend himself, but one red haired women from his brothel
brought evidence for his crimes and plans.
Just before he was beheaded he pleaded for mercy calling for Catelyn to save
him. Gendry took his head with a single sword stroke. Ned had allowed him to
use Ice, that had been returned to Ned, for the execution.
When Joffrey was brought forward, he couldn’t believe that Ned was alive. He
called everyone a traitor supporting a bastard with no claim to the throne.
His insults continued until the moment Gendry sentenced him to die. It was then
that Joffrey pleaded for his life, like the coward he was, calling for Lord
Tywin to do something.
Lord Tywin hadn’t shown any reaction at all. He didn’t raise a finger, nor
speak up. He had only the future of his house in mind and Joffrey had risked
Tywin’s legacy with his actions.
Instead of Ice Gendry used his hammer to execute Joffrey. Stannis and Ned had
tried to change Gendry’s mind to make it a clean death. Gendry explained to
them that he had promised Arya he would crush Joffrey’s skull with his hammer.
Joffrey was a pathetic sight when his head was placed on the execution block,
shaking and crying, kneeling in a puddle of his own piss.
Gendry lifted his massive hammer high above his head before it came down ending
Joffrey’s life with the ugly wet sound of bones crushing, followed by the sound
of blood spouting on the ground.
After the executions had been dealt with they met with Lord Tywin to discuss
the conditions for a peace treaty with the crown.
Like Robb had promised he made sure Lord Tywin got generous conditions.
He was allowed to keep his land and titles and Ser Jaime was released from the
Kingsguard allowing him to become the heir Lord Tywin had always craved for.
In return Lord Tywin had to cancel the debts of the crown and pay what the
crown owed the Iron Bank of Braavos.
Lord Tywin hadn’t been happy, but in the end, he had to accept the conditions.
He had gotten more generous conditions than most lords would. He left the
capital at the same evening to return to Casterly Rock.
The next day, Ned, Gendry, Robb, Stannis, Varys, Tyrion and Edmure, who had
traveled to the capital for the coronation that would be held soon, discussed
the important matter of who would sit on the new small council.
Gendry had decided that Stannis would become his official hand. Tyrion would
become the new master of coin, while Varys stayed the master of whisperers.
Ser Davos Seaworth was named master of ships and Ser Brynden Tully should
become master of law.
Gendry offered Ned a position as royal advisor, but he refused. He simply
wanted to return home to Winterfell where he belonged.
Since Grand Maester Pycelle was dead the citadel would send a new grandmaester
soon.
After everything regarding the small council was settled, the council discussed
the first important matters of the realm.
It was decided that they would march against the Iron Islands again as soon as
the Ironborn were driven out of the North and Dorne was to be contacted to make
sure their ties to the crown was finally cemented by the wedding of Myrcella
and Trystane Martell.
Furthermore, it was decided that Robin Arryn was to be fostered in the capital,
far away from his overprotective mother if he ever wanted to grow into a man,
worthy of carrying the title of the Warden of the East. It didn’t matter if
Lysa Arryn was against it, it was a direct order of the king.
Stannis explained the conditions he had given the Tyrells. To bring them back
into the realm Gendry decided that Margaery Tyrell was to be married to Edmure
Tully.
At first Edmure had not been happy with the arrangement. He said that no man
could force another man’s hand in marriage, but when Varys mentioned what an
outstanding beauty Margaery was, Edmure quickly changed his mind.
To solidify the bound between House Baratheon and Stark even more Stannis
suggested a betrothal between his daughter Shireen and Bran.
Ned had reminded Stannis that Bran was disabled since his accident, but Gendry
said that it was a good match and that his cousin would be happy with the
match, since Arya had told him about Bran’s interests that had great similarity
to what Shireen liked.
Ned had agreed and since Shireen was the heir to Storm’s End, Bran would
someday become Lord of the Stormlands.
                                      ***
Ned stood next to Catelyn and Robb at the docks of King’s Landing awaiting the
Lady Lyannareturning from Dragonstone, carrying the future queen of the seven
kingdoms and his daughter.
Gendry stood a bit further in front of the waiting members of the court and
small council.
For Ned it seemed like Gendry was a bit nervous to see Arya again. Arya knew
that Ned was alive and that her mother and Robb would also be awaiting her, but
Ned was still overwhelmed by the reaction he, Cat and Robb had gotten when Arya
had walked down the bridge from the ship.
She had hugged him tightly after throwing herself into his arms, and then her
mother and finally Robb.
After that she had turned to Gendry and Ned was speechless by his daughter
pressing her lips tightly onto Gendry’s.
Arya had changed from the last time Ned had seen her. His little girl had grown
a lot over the course of the year apart and she had started to get more womanly
curves. His daughter stood of the edge of womanhood and Arya reminded him so
much on Lyanna in this very moment.
Later that day Gendry was crowned as the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms in
the throne room by the high septon.
Arya was by his side, though she still wasn’t crowned queen. Arya had yet to
flower and she would be crowned on her wedding day.
After Gendry’s coronation Ned, Cat and Robb spend an additional month in the
capital with Arya, before ultimately the time for departure came. The North had
to be retaken from the Ironborn and Robb still had a bride he had not met,
waiting for him at the Twins on their way North.
Ser Davos had already started with the building of a large new royal fleet so
they would be ready to take the fight to the Iron Islands soon.
When the Ironborn were put into place they would hopefully return to the
capital for Arya’s wedding.
But for the time being Ned was happy to finally return North. To finally return
home.
End Notes
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