#sandor clegane is alive

[darkdevasofdestruction]

My Innocent Snowdrop ~ Oberyn Martell x Stark!Reader

Summary: The eldest Stark girl is forced to marry Oberyn Martell as a political alliance made by Cersei, but what she does not know is that the Prince of Dorne is a very loving man who easily falls in love with her and cherishes her deeply.

The wolves never strayed away from the North - Y/N told herself, staring up at the head of her father, rotting on that wretched pike. He should have rejected the spot as the Hand of the King - Look where it got him and all the men that came with them. Septa Mordane’s head was also there, staring up at the Sun... And poor Jayne Poole, being imprisoned and... Lord knows what is being done to her.

Lady was dead, Nymeria and Meria, Y/N’s direwolf, were long since away from their premises. All the Stark wolves were very much dispersed all over Westeros, with Sansa and Y/N the only unfortunate souls licking each other’s wounds in King’s Landing.

Y/N would think hard, if there was any good memory she had of this forsaken place. Perhaps the time that she saw Arya being taught how to ‘dance’ by the master. The castle, the courtyard... Maybe everything except for the flower gardens was completely awful - Just like the stench of Flea’s Bottom. A good memory would be when she cheered for Sandor Clegane during the journey for Prince Joffrey’s name day... While he was still Prince, at least. He was such a good man, despite that rough exterior he puts out - Though Sansa was afraid to even look at him, Y/N always felt safe around him. Ironically, the same could be said about Tyrion, the Lannister dwarf with that silver tongue and cheek to match him. She could could count on her fingers the amount of times he had saved her and Sansa from danger - And she wouldn’t have enough hands.

She missed the North so much. That harsh cold was soothing, and the whipping wind was a caress. She wanted to hear the lullaby of the forest and the beauty of the fauna and flora around. She wanted to feel the fluffy snow under her feet again, and see her North lights with her old friend, the bastard of Dreadfort. She was glad that her parents had no idea she would meet up with Ramsay Snow every fortnight, in the Wolf’s Woods - He might have been the craziest psychopath, she thought, but she hadn’t felt more alive than when they were running with their canine companions through the frozen forests.

“Alys, do you think we will ever see home again?” Alys Manderly was Y/N’s best friend since early childhood, they have been inseparable, just like Sansa and Jeyne. They were closer than sisters - She would call them soul-sisters, or something. She remembers Theon one time telling them to marry twins, so they would never be torn apart. For a while, they actually pondered that idea. “I hope so, Y/N. I hope so.” the dark haired girl hugged her friend dearly.

But perhaps there was room for celebration - King Joffrey’s name day approached again, and a another tourney would take place. Though Y/N encouraged Sandor to participate, he merely barked at her - One win was enough for the old dog.

This time, the festivity was even greater than before. There were many houses that wouldn’t join anymore, being at war with either Stannis or Renly - But at the same time, there were a few houses from down South that were going to arrive in grand maniere. Royal, noble houses from Dorne.

“Y/N, you are so beautiful!” Alys complimented her friend, who looked down bashfully and shook her head.  “Please do not jest so. You are far more beautiful.” Y/N went to fix her friend’s hair, before they went to the the stands. Sansa was to stay next to Joffrey and the other Lannisters, unfortunately for her, but the two friends were glued to the rails of the stands. They saw many a great knights - Until Alys gasped, and blushed powerfully.  “Y/N, look - That is the Prince of Dorne! Isn’t he so beautiful?!” Alys’s voice was chirped with glee - And the Prince proudly strutted by them - And then he stopped, right in front of them, with a beautiful deep pink rose into his hand, and grinning charmingly as every lady was cheering and chanting his name. Y/N didn’t dare, but Alys was almost bent over the railing, wanting to get closer to the man. “A beautiful flower for a beautiful lady.” the man said, and though Alys melted, his arm went directly past her, and in front of the Stark girl, whose eyes were wide. Her hands trembled, unable to reach out for the flower - And the man approached her, ripping the stem and putting the flower in her hair. “Much better.” his smile was so gentle and sweet, Y/N thought she would die on the spot. Instead, she reached out to the ribbon in her hair and tied it around his palm. “I pray that you will win, My Lord.” the Prince’s smile widened, and Y/N could swear that he, in that golden outfit of his, was radiating brighter than the morning Sun. “For you, I will. sweet rose.” with a wink, the Lord trotted away to end the grand finale of the tournament. “You’re SO lucky, Y/N! Prince Oberyn himself chose you!” Alys shook Y/N’s whole body, and the girl couldn’t help but let out a weak, amused exhale. “Calm yourself, Alys. It is just a flower, nothing more. He will not even remember that I exist.” the girl smiled gently at her friend, reassuring her - But she had missed the envious look in her eyes.

Just as he had promised, the Red Viper of Dorne had won the tourney - And for the remainder of the day, the Dornish retinue drank and cheered and sang songs - And many more other things that were only for adults to speak of. Y/n smiled, watching Oberyn kissing the woman she found out was named Ellaria Sand, the Prince’s paramour. She was a tall and slender lady, with sun-kissed skin, black hair like ebony, and dark, warm, kind eyes. They seemed to be very happy - And so was Y/N. A happy couple always made Y/N happy as well - It meant that there was still hope for people out there, even if she, herself, couldn’t see it.

Alys was more of a party person, whilst Y/N wanted nothing more than to run away and hide in her room, now that she knew Sansa was safe in her room, and people were actually enjoying the feast - But Alys was insistent, and she dragged her friend forcefully to the Dornish table, pushing away some of the drunker men so that her and her friend could sit down and pretend they belong there.

Lady Ellaria gave them a weird look, while the Prince seemed to be smirking in amusement - Not only for the evident desperation of the Manderly girl, but the way the Stark girl was hiding her face with her hands. “Alys - That was rude!” Y/N whisper-yelled at her friend, who outright stared at the Prince with starry eyes. “Let us return to our chambers, Alys - It is far too late for us to be out.” but Y/N’s pleas were in vain. “It is not every day that you get to meet a Prince, Y/N! Lighten up, it’s a party!”  the comment made not only Y/N, but the two lovers look at her perplex. “You... Do realise that... You are in King’s Landing. And you have met two Kings, a Queen, a prince and a princess... Right? And you see them every day.” the timid lady pointed out, shocked about her friend’s absolute moment of dumbness. “Well - Yes, I know - But none of them are so exotically beautiful, are they? The Prince’s skin is sun-kissed, and that smile was painted by the Gods.” hearing these affirmations made Y/N’s head spin in vertigo. Her eyes were cast down in shame, and her cheeks were pinker than the flower in her hair. “What an interesting pair we have before us, my love. An innocent and timid little snowdrop, accompanied by a bold and fierce rose. How intriguing.” the Prince was now focused on the two new-comers, though his arms were still snaked around his lover’s waist. “We are undeserving of such compliments, Your Grace.” Y/N spoke softly - Oberyn was so used to all the strong-willed and strong women of Dorne, that he completely forgot that shy little fawns like her existed. Shy, and very much traumatised, by the looks of it. His heart was almost swelling with dear, just looking at the girl. “Don’t be rude, Y/N - The Prince is giving us compliments, you have to accept them.” Alys grunted at her friend, before turning at the Martell Prince, batting her eyelashes dearly.  “I, uh... I just think that Her Grace is far more beautiful than I am.” her voice was like that of a little mouse - It amused the woman, but also, made her feel protective of her.  “Ellaria Sand is my name, little one. I am no noble, just a bastard of Dorne.” the woman smiled kindly at her. “Noble or not, it does not take away from your beauty.” Y/N retorted quickly - Ellaria and Oberyn shared a look, before looking back at them with mischievous smirks. “What are your names, sweet flowers?” the woman asked them. “I am Alys Manderly - And this is Y/N Stark. It is a pleasure meeting you.” though Alys looked at the Prince with lust in her eyes, but she did not once look at Ellaria.  “Beautiful names, just like the ladies having them.” Oberyn nodded. “Then, would the ladies wish to share our chambers tonight?” Y/N almost fell backwards off the bench from complete shock and fright. “A-Ah, n-n-no... W-We, uh... W-We were just, uhhh, retiring for the night! Yes -- G-Goodnight, Your Grace. My Lady.” Y/N shot up to her feet as if electrified, and though she jumped to the other side of the bench, her wrist was caught by Alys, and she was roughly pulled back on the seat. “Don’t be such a bore, Y/N! Let’s have some fun~! Lord knows, we need some distraction after everything the Crown put us through!” Alys’s mouth got slapped by the Stark girl, as she was given a warning look. Y/N was looking around for unexpected onlookers and eavesdroppers, like a skittery bunny during a hunt. “Watch your mouth, Alys. You do not know who is listening in. If you are not careful, your head will end up on a spike, next to my father’s.” Y/N had seen enough for a life time. The last thing she needed was to see her best friend being killed. There was only so many family members she could see dead, before she’d lose her mind. “Come on, Y/N, loosen up a bit!” but Y/N snatched her hand away, and rose to her feet, looking down at her friend with a simple look.  “I will be seeing you tomorrow at breakfast, Alys. Sweet dreams.” Y/N spoke curtly. “May you have sweet dreams also, Prince Oberyn. Lady Ellaria.” with a quick courtesy, the terrified beauty went rushing back to the castle and hid herself in the safety of her own room.

Although, safety was a great word - Only she knew the amount of times she had escaped assassination attempts. She hated sleeping alone - Anything could happen at night, when you are sleeping - Alas, she could not share a bed with anyone, even her own sister. The rules of King’s Landing were unnecessarily strict and harsh. She wanted home already.

The next morning was unusually quiet and relaxing. The weather was fine, the Sun was warm and the breeze just right. Somehow, during this beautiful morning, even the royal stench wasn’t as awful on the senses as usual. Y/N decided to have a plate of fruit tarts and find her peace in the flower garden, alone from everyone else. It was her hiding place - A little silly, she knew, but sitting down on the soft green grass and gazing at the myriad of colourful flowers was the only thing that made Y/N smile.

“My Lady has such a beautiful smile. You put the flowers around to shame.” Y/N found herself squeaking in shock - She had been found! What a shame. She had attempted to raise to her feet and made a little courtesy, but the Prince’s hand on her shoulder stopped her - Instead, he had opted for sitting on the ground next to her, and with a leisure smile, he snatched the tart plateau and popped a small strawberry tart into his mouth. “Not bad for something done in this place.” he tilted his head to the side comically. “Your Grace --” the girl began to speak to him, but was cut off by the man, saying his name instead. “I-I dare not.” “I insist, My Lady.” his brown eyes were so warm and welcoming, like a loving embrace.  “I dare not address the Prince so colloquially.” she spoke. “I am just a girl from the North.” “Your father was the Warden of the North. Your brother is the King in the North. You cannot tell me you are ‘just’ a girl.” he watched her shamefully hanging her head. “I have no achievement of significance of mine own. My sister Sansa is the beautiful one. She can embroider and seam like no other, and she sings the prettiest songs. My other sister, Arya, is a fantastic archer, and she learnt how to swordfight from a braavosi water dancer. Mother is the beauty of the Riverlands. Robb is the King in the North. Bran is... Well, was...The most capable climber... Before he got crippled... By the bad men... And Rickon is just a babe of three.” she spoke softly, yet the love and pride in her voice when addressing her family was evident. “And there, here I am. Y/N, the firstborn child of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully. The family’s disappointment - Though they would never admit to it.” she let out a self-deprecating exhale. “Your Grace is kind, but there is no need to waste your precious time with the likes of me.” “I beg to differ, young lady.” Oberyn frowned for a second. “There are not many who can catch my eyes, yet you certainly did. You are underplaying your self - I wonder why. Gorgeous - You are, beyond words. And your voice is sweet as a nightingale. I’d say you are just overly modest. Is it how they teach you in this place?” he ask, reaching his hand to her hair and absent-mindedly playing with a strand of her long, luscious red hair that shone auburn like the red rose of love and passion. “I have long since heard that the people of Dorne are the happiest. That they are free, and life-loving, and very confident. I can only guess this may come as a huge surprise for you. Although... You have also seen my sister-friend Alys, and she is the complete opposite of me.” the man hummed, hearing of the other girl’s name. “Ah, yes, that one. Rather impolite and a little arrogant, after you left. The Dornish may be lax and permissive, but we still do take into high regards our courtesies.” he seemed completely unbothered, but the girl’s heart froze. “O-Oh, my -- Please forgive her , Your Grace. She has been through a lot since we have come to this place... She - She thought she could find some comfort in the arms of a temporary lover. She meant no harm or disrespect.” although Y/N apologised profusely in the girl’s stead, only to see the Prince wave his hand dismissively, as if it was nothing. “You are far too naive and innocent for your age, little one. And the look in those beautiful eyes of yours makes me realise that you are already aware of that.” his finger reached underneath his chin, raising it up just a little bit. “Forgive my language, Your Grace, but I think the right word you are searching for is much harsher and down to earth. I am an outright simple idiot.” her delicate hand was placed over his, so she could move his hand away from her face. “That will not do.” he shook his head. “I found it rather amusing that you hate this place, and its people, almost as much as I do.” his smile was perked up again, especially amused once he saw the terrified look in her place. “Fret not, sweetling - All of Dorne feels the same. I have no reason to speak out your feelings in your stead. I respect you and your boundaries - Forgive me for teasing you. I find great pleasure watching your face turn the colour of your hair.” the girl could say nothing more, but she hung her head in defeat, hoping to hide her bashfulness with her long locks. “I am undeserving of your compliments, Your Grace - Though, I am grateful for your discretion.” her sweet voice made the man want to snatch her into his arms and plant kisses all over that snow-white skin of hers. People of the North truly were so pale - Almost sickly pale. Would she end up sun-burnt often, should she end up travelling in Dorne one day? That supple neck looked and her uncovered cleavage were so inviting - How was he to resist? The birds have started to chirp a pretty song, and Y/N found herself caring naught for her worries, and she closed her eyes and inched her face up to the sky, bathing in the caressing love of late Spring. “Does this bring you joy?” the man asked, and he saw her head nodding lightly. “It is one of the very few things that I can still appreciate without being punished for. It is not much, but these few moments of bliss are enough to make me forget for a while of the woes of life spent in the capital.” she sounded more at peace now, as if she wasn’t as guarded around him. Surely, the mutual hatred of this place and the Crown must have made her feel at ease. With a soft smile, Oberyn put his hands on her shoulders, and pushed her down on the grass. “How about now?” he asked, gesturing for her to close your eyes. “I... Feel a bit... Uneasy.” she admitted, embarrassed. “Are you afraid?” she let out a small, affirmative answer. “I will protect you, so fear not.” though a bit skeptical, Y/N closed her eyes again, and rested the back of her head on her palms, and she took a deep breath. For once, she forced herself to keep a clean, empty mind, and to relax. If the Prince of Dorne said he would stay on lookout, he would. Though, perhaps that was a weird way of saying that he protected her. Oberyn was laying on his side, next to her, and he was gazing at the beautiful lady as he stroked her velvety hair. Apart from her mother, she had never, once, felt anyone taking care of her so dearly. She loved this feeling so much that she was afraid she would get used to it, and by the time the man leaves for back home, she will feel all alone. She couldn’t afford to get complacent.

The Prince, however, thought of last night - He wanted to tell her that he did not believe Alys was a good influence on her, but why would she believe a complete stranger, over her sister-friend? Would she believe the suspicions of a seasoned man, over the pleading eyes of her faux friend?  Ellaria, too, was reticent, when she looked at the Manderly girl - She could smell the venom dripping from her tongue - The complete anti thesis from the innocent girl who seemed to fight so hard to remain good to the word. Was it to keep hope for her friend? Or was it that she wanted to believe humanity was not yet lost to her?

The party from Dorne had remained guest to King’s Landing for the whole week - Time in which Oberyn tried to get closer to the sweet dove, but could not, because she was always taken away by some one. Though irritating, it was to be expected. What a pity.

Or so he thought - For the Lannister Lioness herself came up with rather the interesting proposal - Claim an even more solidified alliance, through the knot of marriage between the Prince of Dorne and the firstborn daughter of the greatest House of the North. The Seven Kingdoms had to be kept tightly knit together, after all. Were it anyone else, Oberyn would have laughed in Cersei’s face, thinking she sent some lackey of hers to spy on him. Even if Y/N was forced to be a spy, he knew he could persuade her not to be afraid of the Queen Regent and her fearsome claws. For so many years, he had been opposed to marrying - He was very fine with his loving paramour and his children. He needn’t anything else. And even better, he needn’t have the wedding in this stinking city, for he could have it at his own, glorious home, in Sunspear. It was perfect.  The Queen had no idea how stupid she was. Or perhaps she wanted to get rid of the elder Stark sister, and claim monopole over the younger one in her entirety? Possible, as well. Only Lions knew how many lions they could tell, in a single minute.

Once Y/N heard the knew of her leaving with the retinue all the way down South, she felt faint - It was hard enough to get used to the climate and people of the Reach, let alone the deserts and scorching heat of Dorne? And the... Very friendly people as well. She had the tiniest glimpse of that whenever Oberyn passed by her, and would reach out to cup her face or quickly caress a lock of her hair. But Y/N was lucky she had not seen the dark look in Alys’s eyes - The Prince had seen it, and he did not like it. It would be fine though - She will be leagues away from Y/N, so there was no way of bringing her harm, or to his family by being a Lannister lackey.

Y/N felt absolutely terrified of Ellaria for a quick second - She felt like an intruder in their loving relationship. Like a homewrecker. She felt like she outright destroyed the peace and harmony of the whole country of Dorne. Or perhaps, she was simply fatalistic by nature - She wasn’t yet sure. But Ellaria was the sweetest woman in the world, and she hugged her dearly to her chest and kissed the top of her head. “Sweet little flower, worrying so much over nothing. It should be yourself you should be worrying about. Being traded off like an object of political means. You needn’t apologise to me. I pity you - But fret not. Oberyn is a good man. He will take good care of you. And so will I.” she remembers tearing up and hugging the woman tighter, thanking her over and over again for being so understanding and benevolent.

The wedding was not to be properly planned until a few months to come, under the pretext that the young girl has to get used to her new environment - To truly become part of the family. Simply put, it was Oberyn’s way of keeping the pressure off the girl.

Some of his daughters seemed interesting in the new girl, while some cared little or even less about her existence. Just another woman in his life, they said. How long she would last, it was only a matter of time.

The Prince made sure to keep her at the lust Water Gardens, where the palace was cool, and she could indulge in the warm waters of the numerous pools - Maybe play around with the children of the common folk, if he felt uncomfortable with the adults. The outfits, also, were completely different from what she used to where, even in King’s Landing, where the weather was mild. Now, she was given the most luxurious silks and linens, some more sheer or revealing than the others - She felt far too outrageous to leave her room like that, so she kept with the more modest clothes, that would hide her silhouette better.

Most of the time, however, she would spend her time in her room, doing various activities, be that reading Dornish books, or practicing over and over again strategies for the card game that Oberyn had thought her. She wanted to be a worthy opponent for the man - She had to live up to the expectations of a Prince, after all. Or, at least as close as she can get. Sometimes, she would embroider some of her dresses, and even some of the tunics that the Prince may or may not have intentionally taken over to her room. He had even taught her how to paint, and brought her all kinds of paints and paper, and though it wasn’t perfect, she had a particular fondness and skill in painting the flowers she would see in the gardens.

Once in a while, she would write letters - All addressed to King’s Landing. Of course, out of respect, she had Oberyn read and approve of them. She had written her sweet sister, to make sure she is okay, and she wrote to Sandor, her most unlikely friend, to see how he fared.  But the most beautiful envelope was directed to Alys. It was of rose gold colour, and inside, she had pressed various flower petals, and sprayed perfume on the letter - Which was written in cursive ink - But she had not sealed it yet. This one, especially, she would seal with a flower instead, so Alys would know who it was from, without a name being addressed.

The two sister-friends would shower each other in compliments and confessions of how much they missed each other, and would speak about the happenings of the countries they were in, or interesting rumours and gossips - Here and there, a little tricket would also be brought.

“This letter seems particularly tender, compared to the others.” Oberyn hummed, pacing around the room, pondering. “It is her birthday. In fact, it is the first birthday we spend apart. It must be hard for her, all alone in that lion pit. Who knows how Joffrey is torturing her.” she spoke lightly - Though she was still shy around the man, he cherished him deeply. Not once, did he try to pressure her - Instead, he was always gentle with her, and would never raise his voice around her, or speak foul.  “Do you love women, Y/N?” he asked in the most casual tone possible. “If yes, I can have any woman of your liking brought over for you.” it only made her cheeks flare up. “N-No, nothing like that!” she denied immediately. “You needn’t be cautious with me, sweetling. Men loving men, women loving women - People loving people - It matters little, as long as the love is genuine. You can tell me. I want to know the preferences of my lovely wife.” he always knew how to make her mind spin around. “No, Oberyn - Really, it is just a letter sent in good faith, on her name’s day. This is how we used to talk, even back in the North. My sister Sansa with her friend Jeyne were the same.” the girl explained, only to stop for a moment, as the man gazed at her as if she was the most innocent thing in the world. “Does it... Sound weird?” “I think it is sweet that you can express your love this way, my dear. I just fear what would happen if any of those stuck-up idiots would get the letter instead, and accuse either of you of... Unspeakable rule breakings, in the name of the Gods... Or something ridiculous like that.” he turned to look back at Ellaria, who was leaning on the door frame. “Will I be the recipient of these sweet words one day, little flower?” “Darling - Don’t tease her like that.” Ellaria sighed, rolling her eyes and snatching the letter from his hand. She scanned it quickly with her eyes, before she let out an exhale once more, and she shook her head. “Oh, sweetling... The world is not yet ready for such a mellow heart.” the look of distraught on her face made her reconsider, however. “Although... If you keep the letter anonymous, they should have no way of tracing it. Have you used different birds like we told you too?” the girl nodded. “Then, I suppose it should be fine. But be careful who you rely on.” the woman couldn’t tell her about her suspicions she had of her so-called best friend. How could she, when Y/N looked most alive, speaking of her dear friend? “Of course! Alys wouldn’t do me any evil. We have grown up together, closer than sisters. We always covered for and took care of each other!” she exclaimed, with new-found vitality in her eyes. “I will have this sent, then. Darling, why don’t you go with Y/N to the pools? It’s evening already, they should be warmest at this hour, and mostly empty.” with a sultry smile, the woman left the chamber, leaving the two alone. The Prince stepped in front of his betrothed, and bent slightly at the waist, extending his hand for her to take. “Will you join me by the pools, sweetling?” he rejoiced in the blush that graced her features, and the delicate feeling of her hand feathering his own. She had remained quiet, feeling bashful enough as it was, walking hand in hand like that with the Prince of Dorne - But thankfully, the guards were nowhere to be seen, and they were as alone as they can be. Private and intimate, and very much away from the eyes of the onlookers. 

She listened dearly to the proud and loving way in which he spoke of the Gardens, and their history, who created them and why. The loud and harmonious song of the crickets and the toads, even the rattles of the snakes. It was peaceful. The breeze was warm, and the sky was filled with thousands of colours, ranging from yellow, red, orange and pink, but purple and indigo as well - And many other hues in between. She had never been able to sit back and admire the sky like this in a while - Especially not since she’s been sent to the hell that the Red Keep is. When the day met with the night, and the stars were shyly peeking and twinkling, thought it wasn’t yet as dark as midnight - It was a breath-taking sight.

She was so lost in the sight that she didn’t realise the way the man besides her looked at her. He was gazing at her as if she was his most beloved person in the world. It was true, he held a deep love for Ellaria, and had fathered several children together - But he had never even thought about marrying her. Between the parties and the debauchery, the fun, the many men and women that shared his bed, and the amount of travels he partook in... But now, there she stood, before him, someone so completely different than anyone he’s ever met before. Different from all the treacherous people, the liars, the flatterers, the manipulators and what not.

She was so good of heart and innocent - As if she was living in a completely different world than his own. A world of complete peace and harmony, where people can do no wrong, and everyone is trustworthy and reliable. It only made him even more desperate to keep her safe from the cruel world. He wanted to keep her in this oasis, and keep the mirage of goodness for her to keep believing in. Little by little, she will find herself not only comfortable in her new home, but with them as well. With him, most specially, as he wanted her so badly.

Suddenly, a mischievous smirk played on his lips - He was so enchanted by her, that he couldn’t help himself. He threw his arms around her body and jumped into the warm water of the shallow pools. The little squeak of surprise, as she met with the water surface, made his heart beat faster. He stared down at her adorable expression, at her wet hair and the incredibly attractive way the light material of her dress revealed the shape of her body as it stuck to it so tantalizingly sweet. There was only so much the Prince could refrain himself, after the few weeks since she’s been brought to his country. His hands cupped her cheeks, and he leaned in to kiss those soft and pink flower petals of her lips. The few seconds of surprise in which she felt her body and mind frozen, completely dissipated, and Oberyn could feel her melting into the kiss. For just a moment, he let go to gaze at her awestruck look, before one of his arms snaked around her middle, holding her dearly, whilst his other hand was buried into her hair. He felt like being breathed into him - It was unlike anything he’s ever felt before. Passion and fire from Ellaria especially, but now, his heart was beating alive, and he felt tender and mellow. 

At some point, he was even afraid of getting greedy - Not only did he not want to scare his sweet little fawn away, but he also was afraid of how drunk he would get if he went even further, indulging in those lips of hers, and the smell of her flower perfume... That was how she deserved to smell - The stench of King’s Landing was finally washed off for good. He was never going to let her go back to that awful place. He hated it as much as she did. Were it not for the situation of the captive sister, or that devious bitch who calls claims to be her friend, then she wouldn’t have any further worry about that disgusting city.

Now, even more than before, he would come over to her chambers and would bring her new jewellery, all of them shining gold like the Sun, with precious stones of every kind and colours, and he would steal long and tender kisses from her. If he were gifting her a necklace, he would put it around her neck from behind, admiring how it embellished her flawless snow-white cleavage, and would embrace her from behind, leaning down to tickle her with soft neck kisses - She would always giggle from those. If there were rings, he would kneel in front of her and slid them on, before kissing each of her knuckles, the back of her hand, and then he would lean his face into her touch and kiss the inside of her wrist - She would get so bashful that she would get on the ground next to him and hug him tightly to her chest, whispering the sweetest confessions of love and care. And if he were to bring he any kind of hair accessory, be it a flower crown or pearls, a golden gem tiara, or a sheer veil filled with diamonds and zircons that would make her hair shine even more, then he would ask to brush her hair and he would fix the accessory in her hair himself, then tilt her head to kiss her forehead - She would put her hand over his, and cheekily bring his hand for her to kiss.

What he wouldn’t do to keep her away from all the horrors that waited them across the borders...

During the day, the two would play the newest card and dice game that was trending all around the young people - It became a trend, as she called it - And he had to admit, it was a nice game that combined strategy and luck rather beautifully. But better than that, he loved how she would make such adorable expressions when she would lose. He didn’t even imagine there could exist one with such awful luck, but she proved him wrong, times and times again, when out of 10 dices, none of them would depict the element she needed... For multiple rounds... For multiple games.

But he knew just how to make her forget about her lost games, by either going horse riding, or for a walk by the beach - Maybe even a little swim, if they so wished to. At evening, she would sneak by the shore and dance - But it wasn’t just any type of dancing, Oberyn realised - But spear dancing. After he showed off to her multiple times when training, it seemed to have inspired the little flower to practice herself. She was fast and agile, but more than anything, she was so graceful and elegant, with her flowing skirts spinning around her slender form, and her long hair flying with every move. More than anything, however, she was having fun. Never had he seen her grinning so widely and having fun with all her heart. She looked free - As free as a bird, allowed to sing at will and fly at win - Allowed to do anything without anything restricting her in any way. She had some difficulty with the weight of the weapon, but twirling around made it feel less than a feather. And her voice - The way she would hum whatever melody she was thinking of - Some familiar to the Prince, while some, completely foreign - Oberyn felt himself completely relaxing whilst he leaned on a tree and admiring her from afar.

Then, came the night, the most honeyed part of the day. The time when he either spends the most passionate hours in the flames of excitement with Ellaria, and perhaps even other participants - Or he stays in Y/N’s room, with her cuddled into his side as he strokes her hair and he reads her a book. She was sleeping so peacefully in his embrace that he could never bring himself to return to his own chambers. It was always wonderful, waking up to such a lovely woman by his side, especially when she’d snuggle even closer to him while asleep, like a little kitten.

Though she was still very much worried about her family scattered all over the Seven Kingdoms, and the on-going war with the Crown, she at least had found the closest thing to a feeling of peace and belonging, here, in Dorne, soon to be married to Oberyn, and good friend with Ellaria, his paramour. Getting even closer to the man, the two agreed to finally plan the wedding, and everything was as great as it could get. Y/N was happy and felt at home, and Oberyn was glad that his soon to be wife was had finally found a family in him, but also Ellaria, his many daughters, and all the citizens of Sunspear.

But in Westeros there can never be a moment of respiro, and much to his dread and anger, there was a letter he received - It was for Y/N, not for him, but she had long since agreed that he should read any letter she writes or receives, for safety purposes. She hated that she was still far too naive when it came to the harsh political affairs between the more powerful houses, so she was fine with someone who could handle this better to take care of these trivial things.

He had called his paramour to read this as well - He knew the Lannisters were the scum of the earth, but to think they would find something as ridiculous and innocent as Y/N’s friendship with Alys, just to bring them pain and exploit the Stark name... It was cruel, and the Prince was getting very quickly fed up with the lions. He had not forgotten, nor forgiven, the way they treated his dear sister, Elia, and her two children. He sure as hell won’t be lenient now. He needed his sweet revenge... Dorne needed the long awaited vengeance, and somehow, he shall have it. Especially on the perpetrator of all evils... The Mountain.

But how was he to tell Y/N about the contents of this letter, without alarming her, or making her feel guilty? In a way, he wondered if Alys was also a  conspirator to this ploy - Surely, she was, he thought. At first, he wanted to just throw the letter in the fire and ignore the matters from the Crown - But Ellaria had reminded him that Y/N’s own sister was helplessly caged in King’s Landing, and they could easily threaten to kill her, just as they did with their father.

That night, he had taken Y/N to bed with him, just like many other nights. Usually, he would be reading her a story, or tell her of some of his weirder adventures from his long travels - Or, on particularly sleepless nights, she would tell him about home and her interactions with her family, and how unique all of them were. This night, especially, as soon as he stepped inside her room, he saw her in one of those sheer, light pink night gowns - It was a pretty warm night, even this late - And she was at the table, painting. She was gracing a serene, happy smile on her face. As soon as she turned her head to look at her visitor, her smile widened even more, and her eyes lit up. “Ryn!” she called out his new nickname breathlessly, throwing the paint brush into the water glass and wiping her coloured hands. “What a coincidence, I was thinking of you!” she had become so much bolder and more honest with her feelings, it was very endearing. “I made this for you! I saw you liked the desert roses the most whenever we’d go through the garden - Thought I’d make something for you to hang on the wall in your room, if you like it.” quickly fanning the painting to dry faster, Oberyn went next to the table, admiring her creation. “I’m surprised, lovely, Y/N, you have become so good at this.” seeing as it had dried, he held up the long paper and admired it. “Just like the real flower - I’ll have someone hang it so I can see it every time I wake up. Thank you, sweet one.” he raised her chin slightly, before kissing her forehead.

He watched as she scurried to clean her hands properly, before taking a book and getting in bed, she motioned for him to come along faster. “I found this book that talks about the culture and history of many countries in Essos - And I have seen many a story about the Rhoynar, and the water mages and witches - I was so fascinated by it, and then I remembered, Nymeria was one of the Rhoynar, and most of the traditions from the Dorne of these days were brought by her and her people. Can you tell me more about it?” how could he ever decline a request from her, especially as she wanted to learn more about his own country? She was just so beautiful and lovely, he could not understand how could anyone wish her ill. “Of course I will, my sweet Snowdrop. Anything you wish for, I will do for you.” he sat on the bed and pulled her into a small kiss. “Before that, I have something to tell you.” he could see the anxiety form into her eyes, so he quickly brought her into an embrace, caressing her hair, reassuring her that she had nothing to fear. “We must leave for King’s Landing in three days.” Y/N looked up at him with confusion, yet he could also see the disgust she held for that place. “But... Why? I thought you said you hated that place.” “O, darling, trust me, I do. If it were after me, I would burn the whole capital to the ground, and all the people in it, beginning with the Lannisters.” he explained, and the girl nodded her head in approval - She would have done the same. “A letter had arrived from King’s Landing today, with the seal of the Crown.” the girl gulped in fright. “They had called for you to attend the trial of Alys Manderly, under the pretexts of adultery, seducing and indulging in... Unethical misconducts with at least a woman.” just like he had feared, the Queen had used their letters to accuse the Stark girl of indirectly going against the laws of the Faith of the Seven. “So... Alys is being sentenced for indulging with women... And their proof are our letters, yes?” the man nodded. “But I was in Dorne, and here it is not illegal. And they cannot prove anything from the time I was in the capital.” “If they want to, they can prove anything, with enough bribing. After all, they are not directly accusing you, but your friend, who is from a far less important family. Not to mention, if she is found guilty, by extension, so will you be, and by those stupid laws of the Church, they have every right to take you away and put you through very harsh conversion punishments, and maybe force you to renounce your family’s name and title and become a Septa, or join the Silent Sisters.” the gravity in the man’s voice made the girl feel as if her soul was sucked out from her body. “What does Cersei get out of this? If she wanted me dead, she could have done so when I was in the capital, not have me marry you, and be far away from her grasp, under your protection. Moreover, she couldn’t have known we would wait so much to legally marry. And if she wanted to threaten me, she has Sansa in her hands. Why go through all this trouble? I do not understand.” she asked, aggravated by all this mess. “The less Starks alive, the better. She did not want Sansa to marry Joffrey, but the King did, and because of that, she can’t change until someone better comes along - And there aren’t many families that can beat yours.” he explained. “Your brother is leading a rebellion, and you are allied with the region that is most likely to go against the Crown for vengeance. You could seduce me into joining your brother’s cause and take over Casterly Rock.” Y/N’s eyes went wide, and was about to protest, but got silenced by a kiss. “I know, I know, you would never do that. Surely, Alys would have told Cersei by now, and I, myself, know you would never even think of attempting something like that.” Y/N frowned and looked down, pondering and thinking deeply, and she sighed in utmost defeat. “I’m so sorry, Ryn. I shouldn’t have involved you in this. I was a stupid, naive little girl who hoped that, if I was away from them, they couldn’t lay their hand on me anymore.” her head was hung, and Oberyn could even see her eyes watering - She must have been feeling very angry and guilty. “I will go to King’s Landing by myself. You have enough on your shoulders anyway.” but the man scoffed and ruffled her hair. “Are you done speaking nonsense?” he asked, giving her a look. “I will not have my wife slandered, nor accused or prosecuted like that, especially not by that accursed family.” though he was serious, it didn’t seem to convince the girl. “I am not yet your wife, Ryn. You do not have to go that far for someone like me. I have only brought you problems since you have met me, and given you reasons for migraines. That is already far more than anyone would do for me... And I do not want to abuse your kindness.” she had tried to raise from the bed, but was pulled back by his strong hand. “You do not get it at all, do you? Or is that you do not want to understand?” he asked, putting Y/N on his lap. “It is you that I love.” Oberyn pulled the girl into a long and passionate kiss. “And I will have no one hurt the one I love.” he kept pulling her closer and closer with each kiss. The fire was suffocating her, but it also made her long for more. “I was unable to save Elia, but I will not allow those fuckers to lay their hand on you, my love.” Y/N was feeling her body and mind melting altogether in his embrace, and she was sure that, soon, she will transform into a puddle and slip between his fingers. “I am no saving Alys. I am saving you.” “Are you sure you want to go through all this troublesomeness, Ryn?” she managed to breath out, her brain almost blank, as his wet lips traced her neck veins. “I would go to the ends of the world for you, my darling. I would reach out and grab the Sun rays, to make you a shining crown, fitting for the Princess of Dorne.” the more his hands were roaming all over her skin, and underneath the sheer material of her night gown, the more she felt her blood scorching from within. “R-Ryn!” she gasped from embarrassment, the same way his compliments always overwhelmed her - In that instant, she felt herself being rolled on her back, and the only things she could see were his gorgeously chiseled visage, his sweet smile painted on those perfect lips of his, and those warm, loving dark eyes, that only ever looked at her with such deep emotion. “Hush, my love. Say no more. You are safe with me, so cease your worrying.”

Three days from then, the Dorne retinue had moved forwards towards the Capital of Westeros. Through the days, Oberyn looked seemingly unbothered, though both Y/N and Ellaria were on the edge, more or less, afraid for what was to come. No one willingly went inside the Lion’s den and thought they would get out unscathed. Still, the Martell Prince had no problem easing his two lovers, and comforting them - Even while inside the awful castle.

They had a good deal of food and wine to drink at the feast, but everyone new, the following morning at court, the Seven Hells would break loose. Y/N had told that night to both Oberyn and Ellaria about the many times she had to be held accountable at court, and how Joffrey had humiliated both her and her sister countless times. Also, she had told them how, despite Jeyne being Sansa’s best friend, she had a different treatment compared to Alys. Oberyn realised that even she suspected something was amiss, but did not stray away from wanting to save her.

This time, however, things were different. It was not inside the Castle’s court that they held the trial, but outside - Was it because of the fine weather? Or because it was far easier to have so many people outside, without too many voices echoing all at once and blending together? Y/N did not know, but she was extremely afraid. The young King was in the middle, on a large throne, and on either side of him were Cersei, and Sandor, Sansa and Tywin, and some other guards. Blasted thing, Y/N thought, Sansa was looking as awful as the day she had left her in this awful place.

“I have an awful feeling about this.” Y/N muttered, only to feel both Oberyn and Ellaria holding her hands. The Dorne envoy was somewhere up there, all on the same stand, watching  the trial unfolding, as Maester Pycelle was down, speaking of the sins committed, before Alys was dragged by two guards She looked ragged and tattered, and beaten up and starved. Y/N’s breath was hitched in her throat, and she immediately shot to her feet. Oberyn realised that any suspicion she ever had of Alys was destroyed by the mere visual of her abused childhood friend, and the pity and guilt she felt for putting her through it all, because of some minor indiscretion

“As we all know, we are gathered here to judge the actions of Lady Alys Manderly, and her unethical actions that go directly against the rightful laws dictated to us by the Sept of the Seven, ancient and brought to us so long ago, by the Andals.” Oberyn could see her small hands gripping the railing so tightly, and the way her chest was heaving up and down. “Septa Nadya has discovered letters written by Lady Alys addressed to Lady Y/N Stark, in which she confesses her love for the Lady, under the pretext of being childhood friends. She has abused the kindness of her Lady through the years and continued to endanger her by association. She has committed acts of manipulation and blackmail towards her liege Lady.” Y/N wanted to hit her head against the railing - Everything they were saying was almost word for word what Oberyn had warned her. “Septa Nadya has also caught Lady Y/N Stark sneaking out at night to go sleep at Lady Manderly’s chambers, which is improper behaviour for women of marrying age.” “What a load of bullshit.” Ellaria grimaced. “Girls are girls. Let them gossip the night away, for fuck’s sake.” it was obvious even she was pissed off by the ridiculous accusations. “Your Grace, these are the accusations against Lady Alys Manderly, and by default, Lady Y/N Stark, through association.” The Maester spoke clearly, despite his old age. “So this is a trial for two traitors of the Faith, not just one!” the King rose to his feet. “Lady Stark was in Dorne when these letters were sent. The laws of Dorne are different from the ones here, so she has nothing to do with these accusations.” Tyrion was the first to stand up for the girl. “Thank you, Tyrion.” Y/N muttered under her breath - the Prince rose an interested eyebrow - So the little wolf girl actually had some allies around the Crown, even if that ally was a dwarf Lion. “That does not take away from the sneaking around at night.” the King spat back. “Your Grace, Lady Stark had gone through many assassination attempts while staying here. I had personally escorted her to Lady Manderly’s chambers, so she would not feel afraid alone.” Sandor Clegane also spoke up for her.  “O, Sandor, you shouldn’t have.” Y/N gritted her teeth, suddenly afraid for a completely different friend - Whilst the Martell almost huffed in amusement - The Mountain was a ruthless piece of shit who mutilated, raped and abused to death his own sister and her children, but his younger brother was a good hearted loyal dog. How ironic. “That means all accusations against Lady Stark are null?” Cersei was the one to ask, and from the looks of it, Y/N was more or less safe.  For now. “Your Grace, what punishment do you find appropriate for Lady Alys Manderly?” the Grand Maester asked. “Any crime against the Faith is a great offense directly against the Crown as well. I say - Flog her to death!” murmurs and gasps were heard throughout the court - What was with that death sentence?! Over something as ridiculous as a girl telling her friend how much she cares for her. “YOUR GRACE, PLEASE -- I BEG OF YOU!! SPARE ME! HAVE MERCY! WE ARE JUST FRIENDS -- WE DID NOT REALISE HOW DIFFERENT THINGS WERE HERE, COMPARED TO BACK HOME, WHEN WE WERE CHILDREN! PLEASE, PLEASE, SPARE ME! SPARE ME!” Alys was on the ground, weeping and imploring the King to at least give a lighter sentence. Oberyn looked up, realising Y/N’s body was trembling, and her grip on the railing was even tighter. A single tear made its way down her face. King’s Landing truly was the city of sorrow. “GUARDS! UNFOLD THE PUNISHMENT HERE, BEFORE EVERYONE’S EYES - LET HER SERVE AS AN EXAMPLE FOR EVERYONE WHO DARES BETRAY THE CROWN AND THE FAITH!” Joffrey was smirking wickedly. Tywin looked seemingly unbothered, though he realised his own grandson was almost as mad as the Mad King himself, and he did not want another situation like that. Cersei, also, was annoyed that her own child was, once again, ruining her scheming by killing the people she was using. Tyrion was disgusted by his nephew’s behaviour, Sansa was too horrified to even watch, remembering Jeyne and seeing her instead of Alys down there... And Sandor... His eyes scanned for the Stark Girl, and upon seeing her, he felt pity. Only he knew how many times he saved her from the assassins and even those stupid guards like Meryn Trant. As the very same guard stepped forward with a large wooden rod, he readied himself before using all his force to strike the girl’s back. Her screams were shrill and raw, and with each him, Y/N was jolting as if she was the recipient of those aims.

“I DEMAND TRIAL BY COMBAT!” 

The whole court went quiet.

“I DEMAND TRIAL BY COMBAT!” the very same wavery voice shrieked out, her voice echoing loudly through everyone’s ears.  “Your King does not allow it!” Joffrey snarled at the woman. “No one has the authority to deny an ancient right like the trial by combat... Your Grace.” Y/N spat with disgust. She snatched her arms from both Oberyn and Ellaria and ran through the crowd, all the way down to the court, where she pushed Meryn Trant away from the girl. “Three days for now - I demand a fight to determine Alys Manderly’s fate. Choose your fighter, Your Grace.” each time she used the honorifics, she spat with mocking and disgust.  “You dare challenge me?!” the young King was getting angrier by the minute. “Your Grace, as the Stark Lady said, the trial by combat is irrefutable. Choose a fighter and we will prepare for the fight.” the Hand of the King, Lord Tywin Lannister, spoke up with a solemn grace. “Fine then. Ser Gregor - Step forward. Show Lady Stark and Lady Manderly that the authority of the Faith and of the Crown are far stronger than some silly girl friendship.” thus, the monster of a man, clad in heavy plate armor from head to toe, holding a longsword that must have been taller than even Y/N herself, and he strutted in front of the Stark girl, who stood tall, and looked at him with sternly, despite her heart dropping with fear. “So it is you they send again, isn’t it, you fucking monster?” the people gasped at the unlady-like vocabulary displayed by the Lady. “Do you find pleasure in killing young ladies? Is that why you so willingly volunteer to do all the dirty deeds the Lannisters order you to?” her voice was getting louder and harsher with each word. “First, you abused and killed your own sister.” Y/N spat at him. “Then, you dared to touch Princess Elia Martell.” she continued - both Ellaria and Oberyn were now on their feet, shocked by her recklessness - But whilst Ellaria was more frightened, the Prince was proud and satisfied - His sweet flower wasn’t afraid to speak up anymore. “You raped her! You ruthlessly cut her body in half! You outright destroyed her children!” she yelled at him. “And now, you would kill two other women, for no reason -- You must be jerking off to the thought of butchering us... Mayhaps you want to rape us too, don’t you? Then cut us in half? Or do you first rape after death as well?” the challenging of the Mountain made the man raise his sword up - Though both Tyrion and Cersei yelled out for him not to hurt the Stark girl, as it would go against the Law of the Trial by Combat, Y/N was quick to dodge, with a graceful twirl - And she snatched away the heavy sword of Meryn Trant, choosing a defensive stance in front of her friend. “So you even have against your Master’s rules, don’t you, you fucking deaf beast?!” lucky her, however, Sandor leapt from the stands and caught his brother’s attention, protecting her.  “LEAVE HER BE!” he roared, giving Y/N time to step away. “Is that how you rule over your guards, Your Grace?! You let them go savage and rampage everything in their path?! Where is the Rule of the Crown, then? Where is the abiding to the Faith?! Gregor Clegane is disobeying you, and you let him go! How is it any different from Alys Manderly’s case?!” Y/N yelled out, accusing the King, and by association, all the Lannisters. “IS THIS HOW IT WENT FOR ELIA MARTELL?! AND WHO KNOW HOW MANY OTHER COMPLETELY INNOCENT PEOPLE WHO HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS WAR?! HOW MANY CHILDREN WERE SLAUGHTERED AND CARVED UP, WRAPPED IN LANNISTER BLANKETS, BECAUSE OF THE HEARTLESS WHIMS OF A TYRANT LEADING A BRAINLESS MONSTER?!” “ENOUGH!!!” King Joffrey screamed - His eyes were red with anger, and if he could, he would burn everyone alive in that place. “GUARDS - BEAT HER TO DEATH, RIGHT NOW!” “Not yet, you have not the right to do that - Your Grace. Wait three days, and if my fighter loses, then by all means, my life will be yours. Until then, it is mine own, and no one else’s.” as the King had his temper tantrum, realising he couldn’t touch the woman humiliating him, Y/N made a mock curtesy bow and spun around, pacing towards Alys and roughly grabbing her by the wrist, dragging her away from there, in the castle, to her own room. “Stay here. Don’t move.” she ordered, locking the door.

Y/N’s whole body was shaking like a leaf. She had never protested, or raised her voice, or acted violent in any way. She had never mocked or humiliated anyone, let alone, tried to stand up for someone like that, even putting her own life on the line.

How stupid could she be?

Frankly, she wanted to bash her skull against a wall and end it all, but she knew she had to come up with a plan, and fast. There was no way she could fight against the Mountain, of all people. She should have known it would be him... Hell, she didn’t even want the Trial by Combat, but seeing her friend being beaten up made her mind go array. Instead, she leaned back on the wall and looked up at the ceiling of the hall, trying to clear her brain and think rationally.

Where could she go now? What can she do? She only knows Tyrion and Sandor here, in King’s Landing, and neither would prove to be too great of a help. “You! How-- HOW COULD YOU DO SOMETHING SO STUPID?!” a familiar voice cried out, as rapid footsteps echoed - Y/N felt herself being pushed against the wall by weak hands. Her beautiful sister Sansa was crying in her chest, shaking and sobbing tragically. “You will die! How could you do that?! Was seeing dad die not enough?! Now you will have me watch you die as well?!”  “Sansa...” Y/N pulled her younger sister into a tight embrace, petting her hair dearly. “I don’t care about Alys! I don’t care about Jeyne either! I don’t care about anyone! Anyone can die - But you can’t! You can’t leave me all alone! I don’t want to be here anymore!” her voice was so broken, just like her heart. It shattered Y/N. If she could, she would kidnap Sansa and get the hell out of here, with the first opportunity. “Dorne and House Martell is known to cause problems for the Crown for hundreds of years. Might as well sneak you out and bring you back to Sunspear with your elder sister. You will see that she has taken quite a liking to the Water Gardens especially.” Oberyn’s amused voice betrayed none of his nervousness. Sansa had a glare on her face, looking at him. She saw him as the man who took her sister away from her. “Lord Martell, I would greatly appreciate it if you would not disturb my reunion with my sister, or imply such unseeming nonsense. I would not dare commit treason against the Crown and neither would Y/N.” somehow, the younger Stark child was able to keep her courtesies up. “Ahh, I see, so those pretty words run through the family, now that makes sense. You see, little flower, the truth is - Your sweet sister was happiest away from this place. I think that was obvious by what happened just moments ago.” Oberyn chuckled lightly. “Enough, you two. I am busy. I don’t have time for silly banters.” Y/N grumbled, prying her sister away from her embrace.  “Busy? And with what, might I ask? Surely, you won’t go train to fight the Mountain yourself, will you?” the girl did not look at him. “Ahh, you’re playing stubborn again. Do you like me reassuring you every time, or are you willingly forgetful?” “I will not have you dying to that monster, Ryn! I won’t let him take away someone important to me.” she snapped at him strongly. “Is that your declaration of love, sweetling?” this comment made the girl groan. “And who said anything about - Dying - Anyway? Do you think me so weak as to die to that meat brain? Surely not, otherwise I would get offended.” Oberyn tut-tut’ed at the girl playfully. “I don’t want to take chances.” came her resolute reply. “You created the perfect opportunity for me to get my vengeance against that thing who took Elia away from me. Whether you want to or not, I will have my revenge.” Oberyn stepped in front of her, gently picking her chin and raising it. “On the other hand, your bold declarations of today have turned me on so bad that I will have to steal you until tomorrow. Little flower, go back to your room, your sister is safe with me.” the gallant man with the mischievous smile easily picked his soon to be wife up bridal style and brought her to his room. The look on her face was almost hilarious, that’s how bewildered and embarrassed she was by him acting so forward, in front of her sister, no less. “Now, my sweet snowdrop, how about I show my love for you? It should serve as enough of a reassurance that I will win against that thing.”

The three days passed by far too quickly, and Y/N could only watch Oberyn train, or speak to Sandor and hopefully find out whatever weakness his awful brother might have had, that they could exploit. The outside court was, once again, the place where the Trial took place, and while the Mountain was already on the fighting ground, Oberyn was kissing and embracing Y/N and watching as Ellaria polished his spear. And coated it with the deadliest poison there was.

“Ryn, please, please, please - Promise me you won’t leave me alone. I can’t bare the idea of losing you.” her wet eyes made the man smile even more as he pulled her into another loving kiss.  “I won’t ever leave you, my love.” he put his forehead to her own, his hands on her cheeks. “I love you, Y/N.” “I love you, Ryn.” she held tightly onto his wrists, afraid of letting go. Still, it was thanks to Ellaria, who gathered her into her own arms, that she unclenched her fingers from around his hands, so he could get his weapon and go for the fateful fight. “Don’t worry, Y/N. Oberyn won’t lose. There is no other Red Viper in Westeros.” she petted her hair as the two watched the fight to death unfold.

Oberyn entered the fighting area by twirling around and showing off his agile and elegant moves - It almost looked as if he was dancing - Was it his way of showing Y/N that she has nothing to fear, and that the fight will be as easy as when she’d dancing around with the spear by the beach, and she’s smiling all happy and content?

He was taunting the Mountain, and parrying each and every one of his heavy blows. It was magnificent, watching the Viper mess around with his opponent, but every time Clegane would approach and hit, both Y/N and Ellaria would flinch and hug each other tighter.

The enemy was able to cut the spear in two, and even throw Oberyn to the ground - But it was the only damage he could do, as an enraged Prince impaled with ease the huge man’s torso, and even cut away at his leg’s tendons, making him kneel to the ground, before striking him even harder. The Mountain was laying flat on the ground, as Oberyn circled him, accusing him of the crimes he committed against Elia Martell, and kept ordering him to tell to the world who gave the wretched order - To prove that it was indeed Tywin Lannister.

“DON’T LOSE FOCUS!!!” Y/N shrieked at him, seeing the Mountain still twitching on the ground. Thankfully, the Viper took heed of the warning and dodged once the enemy tried to sweep him off his feet with his swinging arm. “RYN!!” it took every ounce of strength Ellaria had to keep the little flower away from the fighting ring, as Oberyn kept taunting and stabbing the Mountain, until finally, his last words became swept away into the stinking breeze of King’s Landing, and with one last defiant act, the Mountain had betrayed his former master.

“Tywin Lannister.” Gregor Clegane was dead, and so was the whole crowd, from shock. Only Y/N burst out of Ellaria’s arms once the trial was deemed finalized and the Martell Prince declared the winner, and she jumped in his arms, shamelessly peppering his whole face with kisses. Finally Dorne had received the confession and redemption of the perpetrator who committed such heinous, unforgivable acts against their beloved Princess. Now, it was only the Lannisters to bring to justice - Somehow - But all in due time. “I’m so not letting go of you tonight, my sweet Y/N.” the man couldn’t help but chuckle at the uncharacteristic display of affection from the otherwise timid and reserved lady - But it was, by far, the most endearing thing he’s felt. “Never let me go, Ryn.” how can anyone resist those sweet words, and those beautiful eyes of hers?

But Oberyn will soon learn that going against the Crown and getting revenge will prove to be far more devastating than he could ever imagine - Not for him directly, but for those dearest to him. The loss of the greatest Knight of the Lannisters must have been a huge blow, and they had to retaliate... Or that is what he thought at first... Though at the breakfast feast where only the select few members of the Royal family were invited, and the ones attending the Small Council. Everyone, but one, was shocked at what was to unfold.

They were supposed to just leave back home that day - How could things shatter so easily? Everything was under control, and they were the victors... How could the tides turn so quickly?

At the long table, King Joffrey and the Hand of the King were sitting on the opposite ends of the table. Oberyn, Y/N, Ellaria, Cersei  were on one side, while Varys, Tyrion, Baelish and Grand Maester Pycelle were on the other side. There were two more chairs left vacant, one on each side. Y/N looked at Oberyn and whispered in his ear, worried - Where was Sansa? Surely, as the future Queen, she would be there? Y/N then looked at the King, further up, at Sandor, but even he seemed to know nothing. Tyrion, as well, was simply drinking wine, not bothering to raise the covering platter from his dish.

“I see my sister is running late. Is it appropriate to begin our meal without the future Queen?” Y/N asked, her hands holding each other on her lap. “Clegane, why don’t you go by Lady Sansa’s room and see how she is doing?” Tyrion ordered the Hound. “I have not been informed by her maid of any illness.” Cersei spoke, slowly reaching for her cup of wine. She shared a look with both Tyrion and her father - A look of imminent danger. They were all suspecting something was wrong. “The food will get cold if we wait any longer. Perhaps my Lady wife has lost the track of time putting on make up or doing her hair. That is what pretty girls do, don’t they?” with a wave of his hand, the people at the table had to reluctantly begin the meal, taking off the covers of their plates.

An ear-piercing shriek, followed by the loud sound of a heavy chair colliding with the cold ground. All at once, the chamber was silent, save for the loud, ragged pants of distress from the Stark girl, whose eyes were glued to the contents of the plate before her, as she stood huddled and small, like a scared little mouse, absolutely terrified.

“You have declared war with the whole North, irredeemably, and now, with the South as well. Is this how the Crown knows to keep old alliances in place? Perhaps the Mad old King Aerys wasn’t as bad as we thought.” Oberyn rose to his feet, glaring at the oldest Lannister man, who couldn’t peel his eyes from the blasted thing that ultimately sealed the end of the Lannister House.

“Sansa...” there, on Y/N’s very platter, lay her own sister’s beautiful head. Her expression was fixed, terrified, in agony. “My sweet Sansa... What have they done to you...” powerlessly crawling back to the table, Y/N reached out and gingerly grabbed her sister’s head, hugging it dearly to her chest, sobbing in her still very soft red hair. “Who did this to you, my sweet Sansa? Tell me... And I will kill them with my own two hands. Who ever it is... No matter who it is... I will make sure to avenge you.” her voice was so low and serene, that it sent shivers to most of the people present. “I assure you, this crime has nothing to do with us. We didn’t want Eddark Stark’s death, nor Sansa’s. We did not want a war with the North.” Cersei’s desperate voice seemed to make Oberyn realise that although not herself guilty, King Joffrey was the culprit. “You were Queen Regent, and still allowed her father’s death to happen. It is your fault, as well as King Joffrey’s, that the North wants you all dead.” Oberyn felt himself re-living the very same moment he learnt the news of Elia’s death. He was enraged. “I will have Varys and Lord Baelish investigate her death.” Tywin waved his hand to the two. “The same way you investigated Elia’s death? Or the same way you ordered it?” the Prince slammed his fist onto the table. “The disobedience of a subject does not fall under my jurisdiction.” the old Lannister spoke up. “A leader who cannot control his subjects is a bad one.” Oberyn refuted immediately. “What is it, Sansa...?” Y/N’s soft voice made everyone silent. “Did you say... Joffrey? The bastard born of incest? The boy-King who is crueler than Maegor, and madder than Aerys?” that seemed to anger both the mother and the child. “It is your own fault that you had to retort to killing my father to get rid of those accusations. They only made you even more guilty.” Y/N looked straight at Cersei, with piercing eyes. “Out of all the Stark children, only Arya looked like father. Us, the other five, looked just like mother. You were in the same position. You were just too dumb to realise. Now, look around you - The whole Westeros knows your secret, yet you have the stupidity to create even more enemies. The North remembers, Cersei. I have long since wished for a lion’s pelt for a carpet. Might as well have more than one.” the Queen Regent shot to her feet and stormed in front of Y/N, only to have Ellaria get in between. “I do not think you are in the right to step anywhere closer to the Princess of Dorne.” it was a warning. “And neither of you has a right to slander and threaten the Crown.” she shot back immediately. “I have every right to do whatever the fuck I want. You took my father and sister from me, for no reason. Surely, you have forgotten... That your own twin brother and lover is being held captive by my brother and mother. Let us see how long does it take my mother to take the sword herself and put Jaime Lannister’s head on a spike, once she learns that her sweet Sansa met the same fate her as beloved husband. Let us see how long it takes Robb to ally himself with Stannis. Imagine King’s Landing... Against the North... The East... The South... And, perhaps, if that does not work, than the Targaryen girl with her three dragons... She is still in Essos now, isn’t she? And Essos is so very close to Dorne... I’m sure it wouldn’t be too difficult to go in search for her and get her over to claim her throne... So many possibilities... All very tempting...” Y/N spoke, not once blinking, not once extending her gaze else where, and once she was done, she turned around to leave. “DOG, DON’T LET HER LEAVE! CAPTURE HER AND THROW HER IN JAIL!” but the Hound did nothing. “DOG!” “Fuck the king.” Clegane spat, as he threw his weapon to the ground. “I am done doing the stupid orders of a brat.” “I AM YOUR KING!” Joffrey kicked his chair in his rage. “You are no king. You are just a fucking cunt.” he was the first to punch open the doors, and he stomped away, followed by Y/N and the Martells. “Sandor. Will you come with us?” Y/N’s soft voice called out, down the corridor. “No, little fawn. I’m done with this shit. Fuck this city and all the people in it.” the man growled, and the girl agreed with a hum. “But don’t you want to avenge Sansa?” Sandor stopped in his tracks. “I know you loved her.” she continued. “She told me she wanted to run away with you. Up North, back home. Said she only ever felt safe when she saw you. We have not forgotten the many times you saved us.” she felt herself being pinned to the wall. “Avenging her won’t bring her back to life!” Sandor growled at the girl. “I know. But I’ve lost too much to let those fuckers continue to live without facing the consequences of their actions.” Y/N’s was calm... Too calm. “I have a friend in the North. He is known for flaying people alive. He had shown me, once. I think it is time I polish up those skills.”  “And what would you have me do, then?” he let go of her. “You either become my guard and come to Dorne with me, or you go and join Robb in the war. Whether or not you want to fight, it is your choice, but I need someone I can trust up there. And I need to find a way to get Robb to ally himself with Stannis. He’s got a fleet. If Robb goes to attack the Westerlands again, threatening Casterly Rock, and Stannis attacks King’s Landing from Blackwater Bay... And if we attack from the South... There’s no way the Lannisters can win. We just need a good strategy, and a great many deal of people.” Oberyn had heard her speak this way for the first time. She wasn’t soft and shy anymore, nor was she erratic and desperate. Now, she was smart, collected and worst of all, grieving and war-driven. She had never been to war, but it was clear, all her trauma made her fearless. It was now that the young she-wolf was the most dangerous. “Fine. I’m going North. Your brother better not have me killed on the spot.” he scoffed, only to receive a pendant.  “Robb gifted it to me before I left for the capital. It has a small letter addressed to him. He will know. Tell him I had sent you. Tell them what happened. The North never forgets.” she explained the plan. “You have changed, little fawn.” he was the last thing the man spoke to the eldest Stark girl. “I am no longer a little fawn, Sandor. Not anymore.” thus, Sandor Clegane left for his horse, Stranger, and galloped North, while Y/N and the retinue for Dorne, including Alys Manderly, set South, only stopping by a distant part of the God’s Wood to set fire to what remained of Sansa.

She was far too beautiful to rot away. Best remain ashes, and let herself be carried by the wind and travel wherever she wants to. Now, she is no longer a caged bird. Now, she is free. The days in Dorne were no better, and Y/N kept herself locked in her room, staring helplessly at the wall besides her. She was heart broken, and only revenge could quench the rageful fire in her heart. Day in and day out, she sent out letters - The first, to her brother, Robb, informing him of Sandor’s arrival, and the ideas of allying either with the greatest force on which Renly was relying on, the Tyrells, or on Stannis’s army. Then, to Ramsay, learning more of Lord Bolton’s plans, and convincing him to strive harder to become legitimized and quickly take over the Dreadfort. Lastly, she had sent a letter to Tyrion. He was the only one from King’s Landing that she did not want to kill. He had told her that he was planning a certain one’s death, after being snubbed harshly for even thinking about becoming the Heir of Casterly Rock.

Though Alys was here, she did not want to see her. In fact, save for Oberyn and Ellaria, Y/N had not allowed anyone to enter her chambers. It was clear that she could not get over the shock of losing two of her family members in such a fashion, and for the most part, the only thing she discussed with Oberyn were war strategies - Unless he wanted to help the girl sleep and dismiss her nightmares, at least for the night, and he would pamper and spoil her until she would forget even her name. His sweet words and tender caresses, those passionate kisses and the culminating sounds were all but sinful secrets that will forever remain in her chambers.

Even so, she hardly smiled - And the idea of their wedding was long since forgotten, until one evening, as she was very comfortably sitting on his lap, she found herself telling him about the preparations. “I have made you wait long enough. Everyone needs a reason to celebrate these days - Us, most of all. I wish Sansa... My family... I wish they were here. But it’s fine. You are my family, just like they are, and Dorne is my home, they same as Winterfell.” “You are still hurting, my love. There is no need for you to rush or hide your mourning. You need to heal.” his voice was so gentle and loving, Y/N felt herself melting in his touch. “I know. But I was raised with very traditional and stuck up views. I have long since broken many of those sacred laws, but by mine own selfishness, I am invoking the marriage pact so I can have you even closer to me. Will you forgive me for my unbecoming selfishness, my sweet Prince?” his chuckled breath on her skin as he was kissing her neck made her fingers dig into his shoulder as she let out a sweet mewl. “There is nothing to forgive, my love. I am sure Dorne would be filled with joy. They will see the most beautiful Princess.” he smiled, looking up to her. “And as a wedding gift, I promise you, my love, I will bring you lion pelts for carpets.” for the first time since so long, a smile appeared on her face, and life seemed to return in those beautiful eyes of hers. “Really...?” she asked, breathlessly. “I may have killed the perpetrator who did those awful crimes against Elia, but it doesn’t take away that she is still dead, while the Lannisters are thriving, and well. Now, they have made my sweet Princess suffer and they killed her family. I will have them brought to justice.” her heart was beating so fast, and she was completely charmed. She almost couldn’t breathe anymore, that’s how excited she was, imagining the dead bodies of the Lannisters. “I love you more than life itself.” without even thinking, her heart spoke out. “That’s what I love to hear, my sweet flower.” he chuckled lightly before pulling the girl into his arms once again.

The wedding was fa more spectacular than any Dornish would expect - Was it because of all the pain and suffering they had to endure? Or because the region needed all the cheering up needed? Or, simply, because Oberyn loved Y/N so much that he wanted to spoil and pamper her with every resource available in his hands, fitting for the Princess of Dorne.

Either way, it did not matter - Ellaria was the one that Y/N wanted to help dress her in all the jewellery and expensive brocades and the linen embroidered with the shiniest golden threads and sparkly zircons. Her long hair, red like the Rhoynar Sun brought by Princess Nymeria herself, was embellished with the most precious brilliants and diamonds in existence. Her make up, also, made her lips red like the blood oranges that were ripe and sweet, but her eyes were dark and seductive, making them look even more attractive and piercing than they already were.

Her dress, also, was highlighting her gorgeous silhouette and her bossom, and it was of gold and orange - Fitting for the Princess of Dorne - And Oberyn, also, was wearing his best clothes, all in the same colours of the Martell.

The songs were so joyful and fun, all the people were having a blast, everyone was dancing and drinking and were excited to celebrate the happy marriage between their beloved Prince and the kind and beautiful Stark girl.

The two lovers, despite all the woes and sorrow in their hearts, found that, together, they could move on and find reason for happiness within each other. Not once, did they break apart from each other, their hands always together, fingers always intertwined, and they were kissing so shamelessly in front of everyone, without any care in the world.

But garments were of no use at night, and their bodies spoke every words that was left unsaid. There was no need for anything else, for the passion they had for each other was enough to be understood, and their love was like no other.

For many nights, the two were the happiest people in Dorne, and even through the letters, she had received many positive news - Perhaps there was still hope for a good future for the Stark family? Perhaps, there is even promise for peace? Who knew.

There was one person, however, who was very against everything going on, and her plans all ruined. There was one last act of vengeance that she could commit. 

One night, Y/N was drinking with Ellaria and Oberyn, and they were telling stories of old, and laughing about all the silliest things - Y/N especially wasn’t used to drinking so much so she was in an even gigglier disposition - But as long as she was in glee, and smiling, the two were content. A knock on the door made them raise their head, and as it opened, Alys timidly walked inside. 

“Alys - So good to see you. Here, take a seat, drink some wine with us.” Y/N smiled gracefully at her friend, kicking a stool for her to sit on. Alys could see very well that Y/N wasn’t the same shy girl from up North, but someone far more refined and fitting of her title of a Princess. And the way she was cuddled up into the Prince’s side was even more of an insult. “I dare not...” the Manderly girl muttered bashfully, looking down.  “Why are you acting all timid for, all of a sudden? Oh - Are you intimidated to sit with the Prince and his paramour? You were far more eager to bed them some months ago.” the Princess laughed shamelessly, making the girl keep her head even lower. “So King’s Landing was able to destroy even the most sociable of people. No surprise. Come on, you, just sit down and drink some wine with us.” Y/N sigh and rose to her feet, grabbing her wrist in an attempt to pull her on the chair - But Alys had brought her old friend into a tight embrace.  “Forgive me, Y/N, I have not been able to get over what happened at the capital. I’m still shaken up that I almost died back there... And were it not for you and the Prince to save me... I am so sorry I wasn’t able to celebrate your wedding as you deserved... I am a shameful friend...” the Manderly girl sobbed into the crook of her neck, making the Stark girl sigh and roll her eyes. “Enough of that. I don’t want to hear it. You either sit down with us, or you go back to sleep. I can’t see other reason for coming here.” but then, Alys whispered into her ear. “The Lannisters send their regards -” she thought she was being sneaky, coming over at night when she was drunk - What a fool. Before she could plunge the dagger hidden in her sleeve into Y/N’s torso, the Princess had already grabbed her wrist and threw her into the stool she had kicked earlier, making her stumble to the ground, allowing Y/N to grab the hand in which she was holding the weapon and she slammed it hard onto the hand laying on the table, which was keeping her up. “First of all - Fuck the Lannisters. Second of all... Fuck you.” Y/N chuckled, seeing Alys with huge tears in her eyes, groaning from the pain. “H-How did you -- How did you know?!” the Manderly girl shrieked at her, making Y/N cringe and rub her ears. “Sheesh, so loud, calm down already.” the Princess muttered, plopping back down on the comfortable couch. “Neither Oberyn nor Ellaria trusted you, from the very beginning. Every time they warned me of you, it had come to light.” she reached towards the bowl to eat some grapes. “Also - Tyrion told me you’re Cersei’s lackey. I had been on the lookout for you for... A while now.” “T-Tyrion?! The Queen’s own brother?!” Alys’s eyes were bulged wide open. “There’s no man who wants Cersei dead more than Tyrion, trust me on that. Which reminds me... Would you now tell me why exactly do you want me dead? You were safe here, which means whatever vendetta Cersei has against me, it could have been erased... So you have something personal against me. Why?” the girl asked, her voice mocking her, as she felt Oberyn embracing her lovingly. “She is jealous of you, my love.” Oberyn spoke, taunting the girl. “From the moment I wanted to bed you, but rejected her, she has had it out for you.” he chuckled darkly. “O, so the little peasant girl wanted your wealth and status, didn’t she? How quaint.” Y/N rolled her eyes, amused, but also disgusted. “IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME!” Alys yelled at her. “It should have been me...!” she started sobbing. “Cersei promised me she would marry me to you! She promised me wealth and status and everything I wanted, as long as I worked for her!”  “And you were stupid enough to believe her?” Ellaria snorted in disbelief. “Why would Oberyn ever marry someone like you?” Y/N asked in amusement. “Why would he marry YOU?!” the glare on her face made her look even uglier than before. “Because I’m cute.” Y/N laughed at her, only for her lover to agree. “Cersei thought she was being smart, creating a political alliance between the Starks and the Martells - But instead, she created an alliance that would one day come to destroy the Crown. Stupid bitch.” she shrugged at her. “Cersei would have never tried to marry you to me. Your House is nothing. Your name is nothing. Cersei isn’t smart, but she’s not that stupid either. She was only lucky I had fallen for this beautiful little lady over here, otherwise, I would have declined her offer too.” Oberyn planted a sweet kiss on the girl’s temple. “Lucky me, rather. You got me out of there, and you took care of me so dearly. I owe you everything, Ryn.” she leaned forward, her arms around his neck, pulling him into another sweet kiss. “You’re a woman worth loving and pampering, my love.” the man pulled her even closer to his body. “Just you wait until the Boltons skin your cunt of a mother and poor excuse of a brother -” Y/N immediately snapped up. “The Boltons are on the side of the North.” she corrected her, but by the look on her face, she realised otherwise. “Tywin bought Roose Bolton, didn’t he?” Y/N cursed under her breath, getting up to write a letter to her brother and to her bastard friend. “Not for long.” “The Boltons aren’t the only ones who support the Crown, you stupid girl!” Alys tried to shout, but she got ignored - For the most part. “The bastard son of Roose Bolton is MY friend. He is not loyal to anyone, even his father. Once he gets legitimized, he will kill Roose and will join our cause for good.” Y/N spoke, before looking up at Alys. “Which reminded me... Ramsay had always told me that, to get proficient at flaying, one must practice hard. I suppose it is high time I put in practice his teachings. I have to find out the other families that you claim are traitors to the Starks, after all.” Alys blanched on the spot. “Riri, will you help me out with her~?” that fakely sweet smile that Y/N had on her face made Alys even more terrified. This was not her old friend, Y/N Stark. This was a completely different person. “Gladly.” Ellaria got up from the couch and roughed up the Manderly girl, dragging her to the cellars. “Surely, you can go have your fun with her later. My sweet, innocent snowdrop aroused me too much, and I couldn’t possibly continue my night peacefully without some aid from my beautiful and lovely wife.” lazily extending his arm, he grabbed the girl’s wrist and pulled her back on top of him. “Since you ask me so nicely, I suppose I can make her wait a night... Or maybe two, to take care of my sweet husband of mine.”

[poisonsage808]

♡ Goodmorning ♡

Sandor Clegane

• Habit has him out of bed before you. He prefers it this way though. Waking up, reminding himself where he is and that he’s not in danger, seeing you, pressing a kiss to your crown before getting up

• You getting out of bed first can spiral mornings off to a very rough start. It’s not your fault, nor his. That sliver of time between numbing sleep and reality, those first blinks before his eyes adjust. He can forget the wars, the violence, his days of running… his days as The Hound are over

• He has nightmares about it all still. The only good fucking thing about waking in the dead of night is you. Wine couldn’t come close to taking his pain away now that he has you. Sandor can wrap his arms around you, draw you in closer, breath you in and feel safe

• He’s no liar, it’s not logical. Not a bit. He’s still the biggest fucker alive, he’s still got his sword (propped against the door— in case some sorry cunt wanted to try and put down the tired dog) and no matter how many years go by, he remembers how to use it. Yet, despite it all, Sandor feels safer when you’re the first thing he sees

• If he’s feeling particularly sentimental, he’ll stare at you for a good while and enjoy the peace

• You helped him be better at that. Enjoying those stupid, little moments of nothingness. You told him they’re not nothing, especially not if they make him happy. So the days where he wakes up and watches your chest rise and fall, he checks if you’re snoring or not. He notices the way your hair rests or how damningly angelic you look as you sleep. He commits your face to memory like he did the night before and almost, almost thanks the gods for those not-nothing moments

• Sometimes you catch him staring. You’ve gotten quite good at knowing when he’s looking. Even with your eyes closed, you start smiling.

“Goodmorning, Sandor.”

• He used to call you a witch, he used to grunt in reply, he used to find a detail to complain about because how could it possibly be a good morning?

He’s since stopped hesitating and stalling, replying with a gentle, “Goodmorning, love.”

[catsteeth]

The Caged Bird & The Leashed Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 11 ✿:+ A War for a War

Chapter Index

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it. 

CW: MDNI, NSFW themes, VIOLENCE, misogyny, angst, the boltons, drugged, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of death, blood, threats of violence, mentions of arranged marriage, minor character death

A/N: did i say this would be published monday? yeah. is it 3am on tuesday? yeah.

Word Count: 4.6K

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱ 

As Sandor laid on that rock in agony. He was bloodied and his bones were broken, his leg was the worst of it. He laid there and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to get up and walk out from those Vale mountains. 

The Falcon was his only company. You sent Lenaera to him as a signal to him that you were alive, that you were in the Eyrie, that you knew he had come, that you needed him. 

Though he already knew. He already knew all of that before the bird came. 

But now that he lay on that rock at the bottom of a cliff, he laid there thinking of all the terrible things he had done. How he deserved what he was given. And the worst thing he could think of that he had done was failing you.

That horse he saw in the stables could have been some other high bred white mare, or it could’ve been found by a Knight of the Vale and brought back without its rider. 

You could have been murdered, you could have been sold, you could have been.. Something even worse. 

And if you were, what was this bird? A beautiful, strong Falcon with a blue ribbon around her ankle. 

He groaned in pain and shouted and the bird did not leave. It hardly fluttered its wings. He did not scare it. Maybe because the bird could recognize he was a dying man. Maybe because it was waiting for him to die so it could eat him. 

But, he thought, if you did die, Gods forbid it, but if you did, maybe that bird was you. Or some form of you, a sign sent by you in the Seven Heavens. Maybe, or maybe his agony and blood loss made him think silly sentimental thoughts. Death does that.

He looked at the falcon perched on a rock. As the sun shined down on the magnificent creature he let out a labored breath, giving in to his sentimentality, “Are you here?” He asked you, only you weren’t there. “I keep seeing that bird, a fucking falcon with a blue ribbon.” He grumbled, “Is that you? You die, and you come back like that? How fucking cruel is that.” He laughed but the laugh forced a bloody cough out of him, once the cough settled he sighed, looking at the bird. “I miss you.” He admitted reluctantly, even when the Stranger was approaching he found it hard to admit it. “I think about you all the time.” He felt the emotion rise in his throat and tears well up, “I hear you in my dreams, your voice.” He shook his head, “I just miss you, simple as that.” When he finished, Lenaera let out a loud caw! And fluttered her wings, still staying by the dying man. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Can’t hear your voice.” He said, still wanted to believe that bird was for you. Lenaera tilted her head at Sandor. He sniffed and swallowed his emotion and nodded, “Aye, it’s time. I’ll be seeing you. Maybe. Or Maybe I’ll be in the Seven Hells and you the Heavens. Maybe I’ll be lucky and keep hearing your voice.” He said, closing his eyes. He was content to die now, his eyes were closed and he was at rest as the stranger approached him. But only it was a real stranger, not the old god.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Your body felt slightly numb, and your nerves calmed. You began to open your eyes slightly fluttering open, when you finally mustered the strength to open your eyes you looked around at the blue and silver carriage. The same one that you and your father took to King's Landing. You could tell that the carriage was not moving, and from the light coming in from the closed blinds of the carriage you could gather it was nearly night. 

You rubbed your eyes and groaned, “Where-” You began until an armored glove covered your mouth.

“Sh!” You looked up at the man who silenced you, in full armor but his eyes shining through his silver helmet were familiar.

“Ser Cole?” You whimpered, still under the heavy fog of whatever had taken you.

He lifted the helmet so you may look upon his face, to see his true concern. “My Lady, please listen to my words. It is important that you listen.” You tried to widen your eyes, blinking hard in an attempt to focus them. “Baelish arranged your marriage to Ramsay Bolton. You were to leave this morning however, Baelish said that you were feeling ill and that you’d better be taken to Winterfell and examined by a maester. However I believe it was an illness brought upon you intentionally. Because you’d not accept it so easily.”

“Where am I now?” You asked sitting up from the plush silk seat that you were laying on, Ser Cole knowing better didn’t help you.

“You’re in your carriage, halfway to Winterfell.” He held his head lower, “Baelish has stepped out to…” He stopped trying to find a more delicate way of phrasing it.

“Just speak,” You whined as you held yourself up 

“Piss, my Lady.” He spoke quickly 

“Right.” You nodded,

“When he returns, be agreeable.” His speech picked up, he knew his time was limited, “Play along.” He must have gathered a plan while you were deep in a drug induced sleep.

“I can’t go there, Ser Cole.” Fear rose in you. You knew if you walked into Winterfell you wouldn’t be leaving it. 

He nodded, “I know that. I will not let them.” His conviction was strong. 

“How many men are out there?” You questioned,

“Fifthteen.” 

“You can’t cut through that many men.” You said to him as if you were pleading he’d see reason. 

“Command them.” He said as if he were tried to plead with you to see reason

“I’ve no power, I tell them to stop and Baelish will tell them to continue-” 

He boldly interrupted you, “You have more sway than you may believe.” 

Your eyes narrowed on him, “Tell me what you know,” 

He looked behind him to be sure Baelish wasn’t approaching yet, “In short summary, My Lady, a little over half the men would follow you if you commanded.” He turned back to you, “Believe that. Believe in your blood.” 

Ser Cole heard the “She has awoken…” He said calmly as he stepped to the side, allowing Lord Baelish to enter the carriage. He looked over at Baelish who was looking at Ser Cole with an expectant look, “My Lord.” He finished. 

“Thank you, you are dismissed.” Baelish said insincerely, his voice filled with annoyance.

“The Lady wanted water.” He said handing you his pouch of water. You grabbed it with hast. You drank it down quickly, you hadn’t asked for it but it was true you needed it. Ser Cole starred at Baelish as you chugged it down with desperation. 

As you wiped your mouth with your sleeve finally finished with your drink, “Alright, now you are dismissed.” Ser Cole of course looked to you, waiting for your decision. An action that did not go unnoticed by Baelish, “No, Ser Cole will ride with us.” you said confidently. 

Baelish shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “My dear, I believe we’ve important matters to discuss, best discussed in private-” 

You interrupted him, your eyes sharp and your tone dark and unfitting with your formal words. “Ser Varys Cole is sworn to me.” You lied, “He rides with me.” You said sternly as you moved over, allowing room for him to sit beside you.

As Ser Cole sat beside you, he slammed the carriage door closed. Almost making Baelish flinch. As he closed the door the carriage began to move again. 

Bealish tried to assess the situation best he could, “How’re you feeling?” 

“Is that the matter of importance you wished to discuss?” You practically spit your words at him. You knew Ser Coke had a plan but you’d a better and much more satisfying one.

His eyes lowly gazed on you, narrowed and predatory, “Please.” 

“I feel anger.” You said plainly, “Though It is creeping toward a contemptuous homicidal rage.” You said with dark and intense eyes.

He took a moment, finally speaking, “I can understand-”

You interrupted him again, unwilling to hear his words. “Can you?” 

“A House without change is a dead House. And there is an air of quiet death in this house and I do not like the way it smells.” He attempted to once again rationalize his stance.

“Is that why you slipped something in my tea?” You questioned. Baelish looked at Ser Cole who only stared back at him with the same venom that you had. 

Baelish’s eyes returned to you, “You felt ill, no doubt from your overindulgence the night before.” Ser Cole’s grip on his sword tightened. 

“And you used the opportunity to throw me in a carriage.” You responded quickly. 

“The Maester was in the Gates of the Moon. You are aware of how long he takes.” You knew what he meant. Your mother. When she labored you were with her alone with a few handmaidens. The Maester was at the bottom of the Gates of the Moon. It took him far too long to come, by the time he did your mother was already gone and the babe was in your arms taking labored breaths. The memory surged through you. But instead of despair filling you, only more and more rage did. “Besides, we were meant to leave for the North this morning. Having you sleep off whatever was burdening you until we arrived in Winterfell seemed best.” His tone was careful and calculated. 

“I am not going to Winterfell.” You were stern, and your anger created a dark cloud over you. “You will take me to Castle Black.” It was a split decision but a smart one. 

He smirked slightly, letting go of whatever facade he had, “You forget whose carriage you sit in, you forget the direction you are headed.” 

“The Lady of the Vale has commanded you.” Ser Cole spoke with a deep and low conviction.

“The Lord of the Vale has commanded her.” Baelish snapped at him, 

As he did, you grabbed the dagger from Ser Cole’s belt. You lunged forward on top of Baelish placing the blade to his throat. You felt your own spirit split into two. Battling one another. If you killed Baelish, the power would not be left to you, no you would be thrown in a sky cell and left with Robin to decide your fate. But Gods you wanted to. Wanted to rip his throat out, watch the light in him fade. His memory dwindles over time. You wanted him dead and you needed to be the one to do it. But it would cost you the Vale. 

Baelish began to reason with you, pleading. “I have been loyal to you. I took you away from danger and sheltered you from your enemy. I put my own life at reset sheltering you within the Eyrie, I put the Vale at risk doing so. I protected you-” “By killing my aunt.” You almost growled at him. 

“She was going to kill you, not to mention she’d admitted to the murder of your father.”

“A murder she'd committed for you?” You pressed the blade against his throat harder, slightly drawing blood, Baelish winced, you took ultimate pleasure from it. 

“Not by request.” He pleaded.

“She was mine to kill.” Your eyes were wide, terrifying.

His breathing picked up, “I’m sorry.” It was all he could think to say. 

“I will give you an opportunity. Explain to me your intentions.” You needed to hear it, needed to know what he had in mind, maybe it would give you the motivation you needed to finally kill him. 

“Marry Ramsay Bolton. Poison his father, soon thereafter Ramsay himself. You’ll be Queen of the North.” He spoke with hast

“I don’t want the North.” 

“The Vale. You want the Vale.” He spoke erratically as your blade still pressed deeply against his throat. “Once the Boltons are dead, you’ll marry me.” You sneered in disgust,  “You’ll be queen of the North and restored Lady of the Vale. You’ll be more powerful than any woman in the realm.” He forced a smile, 

You leaned towards the carriages window, “Stop the carriage!” You shouted, leaning forward into Petyr again, “If you won’t give it to me, I shall take it myself.” You spoke sternly as you removed the blade. He grasped at his throat, a small amount of blood trickling down his throat and hand. 

You turned to open the carriage door when you looked over to Ser Cole. His face was one of not shock but a pleasantly surprised one. 

You opened the carriage and stepped out. 

“Lady (Y/N), are you alright?” A knight asked as Ser Cole followed after you.

You looked to the white horse tied to the back of your carriage, Lika. 

You pointed to her, “Untie that Horse.” You commanded but the Knights attention was diverted when Baelish stumbled out of the carriage.

He began to loudly scold, “(Y/N), If you abandon your arrangement-”

“Your arrangement.” You loudly corrected back as Ser Cole mounted his own horse.

“If you abandon it, it will leave me in an uncomfortable position.” He pathetically pled,

You scoffed, “Don’t turn this on me, I don’t want your cloud over my head.” You looked again to a knight, “My horse,” you commanded again.

“(Y/N), Tyrion Lannister has wed Sansa Stark.” The words hit your heart like a steel blade. Though she’d be better off with Joffrey, she was a child,  “I hear she is very eager to flee her own cage.” He said with a dark and devious tone.

“My horse!” You ignored him, commanding once more.

The knights did not budge, some were conflicted and confused by the scene laying out before them. Ser Cole then loudly reaserted, “The Lady of the Vale has commanded you.” 

The knight looked at Ser Cole with disdain, “We’re under the command of Lord Baelish.” 

You held your head high, and spoke with clear conviction, “You are sworn to serve the Vale under House Arryn. My father Jon Arryn is dead but the Arryn blood is not. You’ve sworn allegiance to my blood, to me. Let it be known I (Y/N) Arryn, rebuke the succession. You can either stand with me, or against me.” As you finished another Knight climbed off his horse and retrieved Lika from the back of the Carriage. Baelish stared daggers at the Knight but he did not care. As you Mounted Lika, Ser Cole then announced, 

“Swear anew your oath to (Y/N) Arryn as your rightful Lady of The Vale, Keeper of the Gates of the Moon, Defender of the Vale, and Warden of the East. If you support the usurper let it be known now. But let this be known if you swear loyalty only to choose treachery later, you’ll die a dishonorable death.” As he finished, nine of the fifteen Knights left their positions and aligned with yours. 

“(Y/N), my little dove.” He attempted once more to manipulate you, using the name your late mother would call you.

“I want you to remember these words. If you choose this fight. You will die, screaming.” You said, as you tugged on Lika’s reins, turning her away and pushing her forward. The men followed, and of course Ser Cole was by your side.

“My Lord?” A knight asked, wondering if he should detain you.

“Let them go.” Baelish said, still holding onto his bleeding neck.

And so began the war 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Sandor opened his eyes, he was in a warm tent, surrounded by candle light, in a comfortable cot wrapped in a blanket.

He coughed, getting the attention of a shorter man with hard hair, “The fuck am I?” He asked, his voice was hoarse.

The man looked a bit surprised to be hearing the wounded man speaking, “In a small hut.” He replied with an amused smirk.

Sandor looked around with only his eyes, he hardly even had the strength for that, “(Y/N), (Y/N) where is she?” He asked, his words shaky and unstable.

“No one by that name here.” The man shook his head, his eyes narrowed on him. Curious of him.

“I gotta- got to find her.” he spoke as he shook his head restlessly attempting to get up,

The man placed a single hand on his chest, pushing him back into the cushioned cot below him, “You’ll find her later. Your bone snapped in half, you need rest.”

Sandor was slightly breathless, “Thought I was dead.” 

The man nodded, “Thought you did a few times. Even when I found you, your leg was broken and you were covered in blood and bugs. Tried burying you but you coughed, nearly shit myself.” He laughed to himself, 

Sandors eyes weakly tried to focus on the man looming over him, “Who are you?”

“They call me Ray, I’m a septon.” His tone was calming to Sandor, 

Sandor closed his eyes, wincing from the pain in his now bandaged leg, “I don’t want to hear a sermon.” 

Ray laughed again, “Wasn’t planning on telling one.”

“Ye all are.” Sandors voice was gruff and deep. 

“You’ve met many?” 

His eyes still closed tightly from the pain, “Met enough to know.” 

“Must’ve been a big man to cut you down.” He said, looking at the massive man who laid on the cot in front of him. 

He shook his head “It was a woman.” He corrected weakly, 

Ray laughed as he left the tent that held the wounded Hound. Leaving him to only stew more on the thought of you. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

As you rode on now further North than you’d ever been, you looked behind you. You felt a growing sense of power. Two of your men had left you, going back to Eyrie to gather more men. And even though you’d only seven men, you knew there’d be more. And only more would follow. 

You looked then to your new companion, he was the closest thing to a Hand that you had. So you might as well treat him as such. “Ser Cole,” 

“Varys, my lady.” He smiled at you, you smiled back slightly. Pleased with his insistence of familiarity with you. 

“Varys, tell me about Jon Snow. Do you know anything about him?” You asked, your eyes narrowing slightly. 

He nodded, “Yes my lady. Words have crinkled down from the North that he rose from the dead. Rumors of course but as I have heard it’s been done before. He’s been released from the Night's Watch and is forming an army.”

You looked at him somewhat confused, “An army? An army for what?”

“An army for the dead, my Lady.” 

You raised an eyebrow and scoffed a bit, “The dead? Ser Varys, am I traveling to see a mad man?” You teased,

“Less mad than the man you were originally traveling north for.” You nodded in acknowledgment. 

You looked back at him, with a soft earnestness in your eyes. “What of Sandor Clegane? Has there been any news of him?” You asked as if there was no emotion. But there was indeed quite a bit. 

“No my Lady.” He spoke softly, 

“Arya Stark?” You asked again, emotionless. Though your tone deceived your true emotion. And Ser Cole knew that.

“No my lady.” He spoke again in the same softness. 

You took a deep breath in, allowing all your anxieties and sorrows to be pushed down, changing the subject to avoid more emotion, “Well if an army he needs he shall get it.” You looked back at the road ahead of you, “A war for a war.” You said as you tighten your grip on Lika’s reins. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

A week had passed, Sandor had made a surprisingly quick recovery, however his leg was still too weak to journey yet. So he took it upon himself to help the struggling sept build their community. 

As he sat alone, eating the meal the commune had prepared. He looked up at the sky, blue and bright. It, as all things did now, reminded him of you. 

He wondered where that falcon had gone, he missed it somewhat. Maybe it was you, maybe- he couldn’t finish his thought before he heard a familiar voice behind him, 

“I think some of the other men are a bit afraid of you.” Ray said, stepping towards Sandor, handing him a drink.

“I’m used to it.” He said washing down a mouth full of bread with a cup of ale.

“(Y/N)” Ray said softly, Sandor looked up at him quickly, his eyes filled with anticipation, “You mentioned her name a few times when you were laid up.” Ray questioned softly, He pointed to Sandors bad leg. “She does that, do you?” 

“No.” He asserted quickly, he looked back down to his bowl, “She was…” He struggled to admit it,

“Your woman?” Ray gathered, 

Sandor nodded softly, “Aye. Got separated a ways back. Could be alive or not, don't know really.” He shook his head as he held it low.

Ray sighed, “If she’s meant to be here she will be. I thought you died a dozen times. You were stinking and covered in bugs. A bone sticking out here. But you kept breathing.” Sandor looked at him, “What kept you going?”

He thought about it for a moment. “Hate.” He nodded. 

It wasn’t really a lie. He hated what the brotherhood did to keep him from you, hated the Lannisters for what they’d done to you, hated Baelish for stealing your land, Hated his brother for what he’d done to him. But mostly he hated whoever might have harmed you.

“No, there's a reason you’re still here.” Ray studied Sandor, 

“Yeah I’m a big fucker and tough to kill.” He said, taking another bite of the bread in his bowl.

“No, the reason.” Ray asserted, standing in front of Sandor, “God’s not done with you yet.”

Sandor scoffed, “I've heard that before, man was talking about a different god though.”

“Maybe he was right, I don’t know much about gods.” 

Sandor chuckled slightly, “You’re in the wrong line of work.”

“Oh, there's plenty of pious sons of bitches who think they know the word of god, or gods. I don't. I don't know their real names. Maybe it is the Seven. Or maybe it's the Old Gods. Or maybe it's the Lord of Light, or maybe they're all the same fucking thing. I don't know. What matters, I believe, is that there's something greater than us. And whatever it is, it's got plans for Sandor Clegane." Ray hasn't revealed that he knew who he was before. Sandor was slightly taken aback.

But Sandor sat with the words for a moment.

He looked at him, his gaze vulnerable but hard, “You didn’t know me back in my time, you don’t know the things I’ve done.”

Ray looked at him with a deep look, a darker one, “I’ve heard stories.”

“If Gods were real, why haven’t they punished me?” He found himself asking genuinely,

“They have.” Ray said, before walking away. 

He wasn’t wrong. He was left not knowing if the love of his life was dead or alive. Left haunted by your scent and your memory. Haunted by the touch you gave to him. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

As you approached the looming black castle. You’d never seen such a thing. 

You turned to Ser Cole beside you.

“Grimm looking place.” You said wearily. 

He leaned in closer to you, “You can do this, My Lady.” he said quietly only to you.

Your eyes focused on Castle Black, assessing it, “Even if I can’t, I have to.” You said quietly but sternly. 

And with that you pulled the reins of Lika, pushing her forward, and your men followed behind you. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ 

Jon walked across the training yard to his commander’s chamber when he noticed Tormund looking into the Dining Halls.

Tormound turned around and noticed Jon walking closer, giving a look of confusion. 

“You’ve a beauty waiting for ye’” Tormound said, 

Jon raised an eyebrow as he opened the door to the Dining Hall. He saw you and Ser Cole, with seven other knights. You and your men stood. 

“Lady Arryn?” He asked, taken aback by your unannounced presence. 

“Lord Commander.” You lowered your head in respect,

“I’m not the Commander anymore.” He said walking towards you, 

“I’m afraid I don’t know what to call you.” You smiled softly, trying your best to be friendly. “You are my cousin's blood. And so by some length I suppose you and I share some kind of… familiarity.”

“We don’t.” He said

You took a brief pause, giving up on an attempt to establish any kind of familiar relationship. “I hear you’ve seen the dead, walking.” Your eyes narrowed, 

“Aye. Beyond the wall they march.” He spoke with an earnest fear. 

“You’re building an army?” You asked 

He nodded, “Aye, My Lady. I’ve been traveling to many great houses to ask for their aid.” 

“But not mine?” Your eyes narrowed even more, 

“Northern Houses. Besides, I’d rather not do dealings with Littlefinger.” 

You almost interrupted him “Littlefinger is not head of House Arryn, Jon Snow, I am.” You said defensively, Jon was slightly taken aback, he nodded to your words, “I’ve not seen what you have. I cannot say that I am convinced, though I’ve no reason to assume you’d lie.” 

“You’ll give your men?” He asked with a raised brow, 

“I will.” You nodded, but before Jon could thank you, you continued, “But this exchange would need to be mutual.” You held your head high, “As you said you rather not do dealings with Littlefinger and recently I as well as more than half of the Knights of the Vale have decided the same.” 

“You’ve rebuked the succession?” He took a step closer, his words sounded somewhat accusatory. 

“The Lady of The Vale has claimed what she is owed.” Ser Cole spoke,

You raised a hand implying for Ser Cole to stop, “I have. The vale is a large and strong land. The Eyrie itself has never in three thousand years been breached. It would be invaluable to you and your armies.” You spoke with confidence, “If the house swayed in my favor, I would sever all ties with house Lannister. I would do it whether you offered aid or not. But I would join your forces. My house would swear obedience to yours. The Knights of the Vale would be at your service.” 

“But you don’t have that?” His voice again turned to one of accusatory. 

“I have half that.” Your confidence unwavering 

“But not all of that?” 

“Do you want the men or not?” You brought the confrontation to a dead end.

He thought about it in deep thought. “Will it be enough?”

“It will be.” ‘it would have to be’ you thought, you held out your hand “A war for a war.” He shook it.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

As Sandor laid in that cot that was far too small for his body whilst being nursed back to health, he would often hold a pillow against his chest. Pretending it was you. Though it didn’t have your scent, your body's warmth, your plumpness, your weight, but it was all he had. He tried to remember the way your ways would look into his.

Your eyes always spoke loudly, they told him everything you felt.

From anger, sadness, fear, lust, ecstasy, and his favorite was joy.

Gods he wanted you badly. Like water, or wine preferably.

He laid there and thought of you, of all of the gentleness you gave to him. He didn’t deserve it, he knew that. And yet here he was dreaming of it at night. With his cock hardening against the soft fabric of the cott he laid in.

He moved off his bad leg rolling onto his stomach, using his strong leg to hold himself up as he clutched the pillow in his arms and grinded into the cott.

The pressure against his aching length was good, but it did not compare to the satisfaction only your cunt provided.

Gods he thought of how perfectly you fit with him. Your body molded to his and his to yours.

He rocked himself into the cot whilst he tried his best to remember how your walls would tighten against his cock, how your lips would find his.

He missed the wetness of your cunt, the plumpness of your breasts, the softness of your body.

He remembered the first time he’d taken you, truly and properly. You’d taken him so well, it was as if he’d been made for you. You held him so sweetly as his cock pushed in and out of you.

A sweetness he’d not ever forget. He needed you badly that was for certain and all he had not was a pillow and a cot.

“Seven hells” he hissed as he reluctantly filled back back into his back and pulled himself out of his breeches and began to stroke his length. He imagined the sounds you’d make. The beautiful moans of pleasure that you’d sing to him, the lustful and vulgar sounds your cunt made when his cock slipped in and out of you.

But what always had done him in was your eyes. Gods your beautiful beautiful eyes. They showed no fear, pity, or disgust. They showed a love he’d never seen before. How warm and soft they were- “Fuck!” Sandor hissed as he spilt his seed out onto his stomach.

Perhaps now he’d be able to sleep. But of course he couldn’t.

꒰ ୨୧ ─

Later the next morning, Sandor was deep within the woods and far from the community. He was finally well enough to walk and run further and further from the commune. That’s the way he liked it. Being far from the rest. He didn’t need any men and he certainly didn’t need any women.

As Sandor chopped wood, he heard a scream, a scream of a woman. Sandor dropped what he was doing and ran as well as he could with his limp he still had. 

When he finally reached the sept everyone was massacred, and Ray, the closest thing to a friend he’d had since you or Arya, was hanged in the middle of the sept he helped build. 

He picked up his ax and went hunting. 

Hunting for the men who did what they did. 

NOTE:

Does this one lowkey suck? Yeah. And what about it? This is going to serve as a good catalyst for the next chapter I promise.

K love you, xoxo

Bambi

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[justagirlwholikesadam]

The Wolf Among Men

WARNING: RATED M, Death, Mention of Rape, Attempt Rape, Violence, Witchcraft, Themes of Religion, Miscarriage, Shapeshifting, Worship, BLOOD BLOOD

A/N: I'm so sorry for the long wait!! Thank you for everyone who liked and commented on this story. I'm so happy you guys are liking it. Remember to comment and like. PLEASE READ THE WARNING TAGS BEFORE READING! Enjoy - L

Summary: Jon was told that his eldest sister, Y/n arrived to Castle Black. He was surprised when Y/n arrived with The Hound, Sandor Clegane.

Word Count: 13K

━ ◦ ❖ ◦━ Chapter Five

“Killing is the sweetest thing there is.” Sandor told Sansa once. 

He remembered it as he stood by the edge of the courtyard of the East Watch. It was the afternoon of the duel and everyone stood around except six men. They stood in the middle of the yard as they stared at Sandor. Each of them held their weapons. They were supposedly the ‘greatest fighters’ in the Night Watch and they wanted to bring justice for their deceased brothers. They had a council on how to deal with this matter. They threw ideas around about your punishment and what should be done. Some said that you should be kept in a cage while others said you should be hanged. 

“A duel to the death.” One of them shouted and the rest agreed. 

The men who wanted you dead picked these six to duel Sandor. Jon had wanted to fight and so did the rest of the group but Sandor refused. 

“She’s my woman. I’ll defend her honor.” 

He glances up to see Beric and Thoros standing outside your door. Thoros gave him a nod as he leaned over the railing. Sandor had asked them to stay put, he didn’t trust the men of the Night Watch even though they had agreed if he won no harm would come to you. He knew deep down that someone might get angry about the outcome and will try to kill you either way. He gripped the handle of his sword tight and took a deep breath. It’s been so long since he killed someone alive. Jon watches by the sideline with Ser Davos and Daenerys. Jon had accepted the proposal to have a duel in the courtyard and settle this once and for all. The moment Jon nodded at them to start, they advanced. Sandor rammed his sword into a man’s stomach while another came running behind him. Sandor was taller, more built and he was far more experienced. These were criminals who were just trained to keep watch and how to swing a sword but none of them had actually fought in a battle. The ones who had fought didn’t participate in the duel since they knew about Sandor. They were the smart ones. 

The man behind Sandor was just a few seconds away from hitting Sandor’s back when Sandor stepped away quickly. Letting out a grunt, Sandor swung his sword with all his might. Daenerys flinched when Sandor completely beheaded the men in one blow. Sandor can smell the scent of blood lingering in the cold air. He can feel the sweat dripping down his back. All he thought about was just four more to go and he’s able to go back to your room and wait for you to wake up. 

“She’s a monster.” One of them told him. 

“She’ll kill you too.” Sandor clenched his jaw as the men shouted.  He didn't listen to them, he wouldn't get distracted by their lies. 

One of them finally had the balls to step forward and tried to take a swing but Sandor blocked it and knocked the sword out of their hands. Ser Davos and Daenerys saw Jon step forward when one of them managed to catch Sandor by surprise. While Jon had a worried face throughout the fight. Tormund stared at awe when Sandor had punched one of them in the face, sending them down to the ground. 

The only one remaining had begun to pant, his arm was wounded and his head was bleeding. He kept looking down to see his dead brothers. Sandor had sliced one of their stomachs open, intestines and blood stained the snow on the ground.  His brown eyes darkened when he saw the last man standing. Sandor spit on the ground, one of them managed to punch him. Sandor started to walk towards him passing by the man who punched him. Sandor can hear the sound of gurgling coming from him. Sandor had sliced his throat making him choke in his own blood. 

The last man standing let out a whine as Sandor raised his sword and stabbed the choking man in the chest, killing him. Sandor did not even look at the man below him when he stabbed him through the heart. He kept his gaze on the last man. Sandor had seen tons of scared faces of the people he killed. Some begged for mercy while others just cried and there were a few who just cursed at him before killing them. This one held a face of defeat, the last man standing knew he wasn’t going to get out of this alive. He laughed to himself when he thought back on how the six of them thought they were going to kill the infamous Sandor Clegane. 

Jon and Ser Davos watched as Sandor embedded his sword in the man’s chest. Jon knew Sandor was a good fighter but he honestly didn’t think Sandor was going to survive a duel against six to one. Sandor Clegane lived up to the title of one of the most dangerous and best fighters in Westeros. 

Sandor looked at the bodies on the ground before looking ahead. 

“Anyone else?” He shouted with a huff. 

“Is there anyone else?” Sandor growled looking at the crowd. They all backed away from him. 

Sandor cast a look at Jon. “Duel is over. Sandor had won. Y/n Stark of Winterfell will not be punished.” Jon spoke out. 

Sandor was about to walk away when he heard a shout behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see an older man yelling as he ran towards him with a knife in his hand. Sandor could have easily swung his sword and stop him but something snapped in him. He was fucking annoyed now, furious because he just won and people were still mad. He dropped his sword and decided he was going to end this man with his hands. Sandor was much quicker and grabbed his wrist, twisting it making the older man drop his knife. He can hear people yelling around and Jon’s voice telling them to stop. The old man didn't stand a chance, Sandor had pushed him to the ground and got on him. Punching him in the face until he felt Jon and Ser Davos behind him. The old man cried for mercy but Sandor ignored it. 

“Enough, Sandor.” He felt Jon’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Get back to my sister.” Jon told him as Sandor stood up walking away from the scene. The older man was dragged away as Sandor walked up the steps to your room. 

----

He didn’t like being away from you. He hated it, not being able to see or feel you but he knew Beric and Thoros would keep their promise. 

“Keep her safe. Out of harm.” He told them on their last night in the East Watch. Thoros and Beric had sworn their life to Sandor that they will keep you safe. 

He had come up the steps after going down the deck to check if the wight was still alive to present to Queen Cersei. He took a deep breath as he stood by the railing, smelling the ocean air. He looked over at the port coming in view. 

He’s back again at the shit city, King’s Landing. The only thought Sandor had when he saw the port of King’s Landing was his brother. The news of his brother's match with Oberyn was brought to him and the small hope that his brother was finally gone flew away when they said the new Grand Maester Qyburn had done unethical experiments on his brother and brought him back as something else. Something sinister, one of the workers on the loading dock told Sandor when they boarded off the ship. 

Sandor didn’t care what became of his brother either way Sandor was gonna kill him. 

Sandor was walking near the wagon that contained the wight when he saw Brienne. He cursed under his breath when he noticed the tall woman staring at him and waited for him to get closer to her. 

“Thought you were dead.” Brienne said as she walked alongside him. 

“Not yet. You came pretty close.” Sandor replied bluntly. 

Brienne let out a huff and said. “I was only trying to protect Y/n Stark. I didn’t know.” 

“Didn’t know what?” Sandor asked. 

“I didn’t know she loved you.” Brienne’s words made him stop and look at her. 

“Sansa told me.” Sandor frowned as they started to walk again. 

“Sansa sent a raven to me. People think Y/n is dead. House Stark wanted to keep it that way in case of anything. Y/n wanted you to know that she’s home, she’s waiting for you and that she loves you.” Sandor felt a weight come off his shoulders when Brienne told him you were safe. 

“That’s good.” Sandor said with a nod. Brienne bit the inside of her cheek to not smile when she saw Sandor’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink. Brienne couldn’t believe it herself but the way Sandor’s eyes widened when she told him you were safe and you love him was all the evidence she needed that it was true. 

“She wrote anything else?” Sandor asked. 

“Arya is at Winterfell.” The weight just came back on his shoulders. He had no doubt that the youngest Stark sister was out for him.

“You said House Stark wants to keep the news of Y/n being alive quiet? Brienne nodded. 

“That’s right.” 

“What makes you think everyone in Winterfell will keep their mouth shut about it? They can sell this information.” Brienne ponders on the question. She starts feeling uneasy when she realizes he’s right. 

At that moment Brienne did a small prayer. Praying to the Gods that no one will do no such a thing. 

It wasn’t one of the guards telling the Starks that you were going to arrive or a raven. It was Bran. He had seen you coming to Winterfell and he told his sisters about it. He told them the moment that Arya saw him staring out the window of the Winterfell’s dining hall. Sansa and Arya were dumbfounded when Bran had said he saw you.

Bran had ordered a flock of servants to have your things ready and start preparing for your arrival. Sansa and Arya were shocked when their younger brother started to order around. He was acting like he was Lord of Winterfell, a title he had given up. Since he came back to Winterfell he was quiet, unemotional and just odd. 

Sansa kneels in front of Bran and asks him to clarify what he saw. The only thing Bran told her was, “She’s coming home.” 

A few days later Sansa, Arya and Bran were waiting in the courtyard. Everyone was there and after 10 minutes had passed, Sansa looked down at Bran, who had made everyone stand outside.  

“Are you sure she’s coming?” Sansa asked. 

“Perhaps, your brother should be brought up to his room. He is probably in need of rest.” Lord Baelish commented behind Sansa. Bran looks away from him and continues to stare ahead. 

“She’s here.” Bran said and everyone looked ahead to see the gates opening. Ghost was the first one in, he was running inside with Beric, Thoros and you riding behind. 

Arya held her breath when she saw three people riding in. The moment she saw her sister’s face, she heard commotions behind her. People were whispering and others started to cry. The eldest daughter of Ned has finally come home. 

Sansa dropped her mouth open when she saw her sister riding in. You got off your horse and stood still for a moment. Winterfell hasn’t changed. Looking ahead at Sansa who started to walk towards you, you quickly ran to catch up to her. 

Thoros and Beric got off their horse to see you hugging Sansa. Ghost had walked up to Bran, sitting near him. Sansa was the first to cry, her sobs were loud enough for the courtyard to hear. You looked over her shoulder to see Arya standing next to Bran. Her dark eyes wide and her brows knitted together as she tried her best to not cry. 

“Arya. Bran.” You cried out. Sansa held your hand as both of you walked towards them. 

Not a single eye was dry in the courtyard. People from Wintertown and Winterfell smiled as the Stark siblings were united again. They watched as you leaned down to kiss Bran’s cheek and Arya’s forehead. 

“Never again will we part.” You said looking at your siblings

“The Starks will stick together. No matter what. This is our home.” Arya and Sansa smiled at you. 

“And I intend to keep it that way.” Lord Baelish keeps quiet as he watches you hug your siblings one more time before hugging the servants who remained loyal to House Stark. Lord Royce who was near him walked ahead to welcome you back home. 

Sansa and you walked inside the castle with your arms intertwined. Each step you took reminded you of every memory you held dear to you. Laughter of your family echoed in the halls. Memories of your family came at you and wrapped around you offering the sense of warmth. 

“I believe it's right that you should take Father and Mother’s bed chambers.” Sansa told you as she walked beside you to the room. 

“Jon offered it to me but I couldn't take it. I was still holding out hope that you were alive.” 

Sansa opened the door for you and you walked inside. Sansa watched as you walked over to the fireplace, touching the stone wall, looking at the large bed filled with fur blankets and feather pillows. Thick wool blankets around the furniture and the vanity your mother used when getting ready. The news spread around the castle of the return of you. A celebration dinner was an order, servants ran around preparing dinner and cleaning the dining hall. The eldest Stark had finally returned home, alive. Everyone wanted to see you. 

Sansa couldn’t drop her smile as she walked towards your room once more. She had left you to get ready. She knocked on your door, a young servant opened the door allowing her to walk in. You were sitting in front of the vanity with a robe. 

“Allow me.” She told one of the servants who was about to brush your hair. You gave a smile to Sansa through the mirror. 

“Leave us, please.” Sansa commanded them to go. You waited to be alone to speak. 

“You're glowing, Sansa.” You told her. Sansa’s red hair was longer, she had grown taller, she was the perfect picture of beauty. She looked so much like mother. 

��Being the Lady of Winterfell is a good look on you.” Sansa carefully brushed out the knot of your hair. 

“You’re the Lady of Winterfell now. You’re the eldest. I have done the best I can.” You were about to speak when there was a knock on the door. 

“Come in.” You shouted. The door opened showing Bran and Arya, she pushed the wheelchair inside your room. Sansa had walked towards Arya shooting next to her on the bed while Bran sat near the fireplace. You looked around at them. 

“What happened to you? How are you alive?” Ayra was the first to speak. 

Bran knew what you were going to say, he had seen it. He and your sisters listened to every word you said,  you told them about escaping King’s Landing with Sandor. Ayra’s eyes harden everytime the name Sandor was brought up.  

Arya didn't want to believe it. You had fallen in love with the man that killed her friend but the way you cried when telling them how Sandor got hurt made her hatred towards him complicated. You showed your sibling the scar on your hand, Sansa cried as she traced the healed scar while you told them how you got it. You didn’t notice the face Bran made when he saw the scar, his hands on his lap clenched around. 

Arya felt her stomach in knots when you told them how you felt ill during your trip to see Jon. She blinked away the tears when you told them you were with child during your death. 

“Are you serious?” Sansa asked when you told her the same priestess who brought Jon alive had brought you back as well in exchange for the life of your child. 

“I came back as something else, though.” You told them nervously. 

“Do not be ashamed.” Bran spoke as he looked at you. 

“You are still our sister and you are still a Stark. You are still Y/n to us.” Arya and Sansa’s eyes widened when you told them that you have the ability of transforming into an animal, into a wolf. 

“I believe you.” Arya said as she looked up and down at you. 

“Do you?” You asked her unsure. Arya got off of the bed and walked towards you. 

“Would you believe me if I told you I’m the Faceless man and our brother is the Three-Eyed Raven?” You looked at Arya and Bran. 

Music and laughter filled the dining hall that evening. You were sitting at the head of the table with your siblings sitting next to you. You haven’t felt this good in a while. You were cleaned, you didn’t smell like sweat and dirt. You wore your traditional northern clothes and your hair was braided. You stared ahead to see Thoros and Beric eating along with a few soldiers, you let out a small smile to see them content.

Still staring at them you didn’t notice Lord Baelish walking towards the table. It was Sansa who greeted him that made you look at him. You gave a tight lipped smile when you welcomed you back home. 

“It’s good to be back home, Lord Baelish. I mean to say Lord Protector of the Vale.” You said, Sansa had filled you in about Petyr. He stared at you for a moment before he nodded at you. You sat straight up when you felt a pain in your spine. It was sudden and brief, you kept staring at him. You recalled what Sansa had told you. He practically sold her off to the Boltons before killing Aunt Lysa. 

“I suppose since you arrived back home. That makes you Lady of Winterfell.” You were about to speak when Sansa spoke out first. 

“She indeed is. Y/n is the eldest after all. Is there a problem with that?” Lord Baelish let out a smile and shook his head. 

“Of course not, Lady Sansa.” He said before excusing himself. You watched him leave before looking back at your plate. You haven’t given thought about the title of Lady of Winterfell since you arrived. You were thinking about Sandor and Jon. Thinking about the war coming but most of all you were thinking about Ramsey. Your mouth grew dry as you kept thinking about him and his death. You started to feel your gums tingle, your back began to ache. 

Sansa had taken a sip of her wine when she noticed you in the corner of her eye. She placed the cup down and leaned towards you when she saw your hands were slightly trembling. You felt Sansa hands on you, looking over at her. She held a worried expression on her face. 

Looking at her eyes, her blue eyes reminded you of your mother. Your chest grew heavy at the thought of Little Finger with her. Your mother had told you that she was close with him when younger and his affections grew for her. Now that she was dead, his affection grew on Sansa. It made your blood boil at the very thought of it. 

Giving her a gentle squeeze assuring her that you’re fine. 

“I’ll be back. Need some air.” You whispered to her behind raising up from your chair. 

“I’ll go with you.” Sansa told you, she was about to get up as well when you shook your head. 

“Don’t worry. It’s only for a moment.” Arya looked over and raised an eyebrow at Sansa. She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders at her younger sister. 

You greedily breathe in the cold into your lungs the moment you step outside.

 ‘Relax. Relax.’ You kept yelling to yourself. You let out a grunt when you felt your back arch once more. You knelt to the ground, your hands gripping on the wooden railing of the second floor. Staring out in the courtyard, you tried your best to relax. Your anger was getting the best of you. You couldn’t transform at this moment. 

The snow on the wooden railing was melting under your touch, you grew warm as each second passed. This new ability had changed you completely and at first you thought it was just lies. You were sitting with Beric and Thoros after riding a few miles from the East Watch when they spoke more about this new ability. Thoros has asked you if you felt different since you woke up. 

You were different now, absolutely different. You had told him before listing everything you noticed. You were able to hear and see better. You weren’t as cold as before. 

“Stronger.” Thoros added before retelling you what they saw in the dining hall of the East Watch. You were able to push Sandor, practically almost pushing him over when he tried to touch you. 

“Uncontrollable temper.” Beric said and you agreed with him. 

So much hate, so much want for revenge, it molted deep inside of you and you just wanted to let it out. You wanted to kill those who wronged you, who wronged House Stark and something inside of you was yearning to see them dead, to see their bloody corpse under your feet. To hear their cries and the sound of their hearts beating rapidly in fear made you giddy. 

Your shoulders twitched as you continued your best to relax yourself. You wished for his warmth, for his scent, the only person who seemed to get you to relax. You shut your eyes shut tightly as you thought of him. His lips against your bare skin and his touch, his large fingers gliding up and down your body. His deep voice when he calls out your name but most of all you missed looking up at his beautiful brown eyes. 

“Sandor.” You whispered his name in the wind. 

Saying his name covered you like a blanket. It almost felt like he was holding you like on the last night together at the East Watch. Taking another deep breath, your eyes shot open when you heard someone walking by. You can hear the snow crunching under their steps and their teeth chattering because of the cold.

You saw the person was covered in a thin cape, their covered figure walking towards the dog’s kennel. You looked at them and it filled you with curiosity. Carefully you rose up trying your best not to make a sound. The person was oblivious of their surroundings, they didn't notice you following them. Too busy trying to pick the lock out of the front door of the kennel. You noticed they held a small satchel close to their chest. 

As the door opened, you carefully watched by the doorway when the person made their way inside. Some of the hounds bark while the person walks to a cage. You can hear their soft hush while they sat next to a wounded Ramsey. Your eyes widened and a smile appeared on your face. You found him. 

The person was a woman, you can hear her talking to him but Ramsey gave no response. He was injured badly. You stayed hidden behind the walls of the dog’s kennel when the woman finished feeding him. She looked both ways before leaving and you managed to get a look of her face.

It was night time and the celebration was over. The dining hall was empty except for your siblings and you. Sitting around the table everyone shared a pitcher of wine.  There was so much to be said, everyone’s experience after what had happened when the Starks left to go to King's Landing. 

“Seven hells.” You said when Arya finished telling everyone about her journey at the House of Black and White in Braavos. She had disguised herself as a boy throughout her whole trip after the execution of Ned Stark. She mentioned how fortunate she was to meet a farmer and his daughter on the road. They gave her a ride to a dock where she got into a ship. She learned the ways of the faceless man and she got her revenge on House Frey and Meryn Trant. She heard what the Freys did and they all stood quiet when you told them what you saw that night in the Red Wedding. 

“Hodor would be missed.” You said after a moment of silence and looked over at Bran who was staring down at his lap. 

Bran had told everyone a brief summary of what had happened to him after Winterfell. It wasn’t much, but everyone knew it had changed him completely. The death of so many people who have sacrificed and helped him. 

“So you see the past?” You asked Bran. He nodded at you. 

“Do you see father?” You asked. 

“Sometimes.” Bran whispered. “Robb. Mother. Us when we were younger. I see a lot of Rickon.” With the years that have passed, their deaths still caused so much pain. Rickon’s death was still fresh in everyone’s mind. You long to see your little brother's face. The last time you saw Rickon was when you were comforting him. He was crying at the news that his sisters will be going to King's Landing with their father. You had promised him that you would bring him many toys and a real sword. 

“We should have never left home.” Sansa said. You finished your cup of wine in one gulp as you wiped the silent tears down your face. 

Arya and you walked out of Sansa chambers after putting her to bed. “She’s going to have one hell of a  headache tomorrow.” You agree with Arya on that as you walk her to her own chambers. Bran had left a while back to his own before Sansa had suggested a second pitcher. It was nice seeing Sansa happy even if she was a bit drunk. Her eyes shined and her smile never left her face. 

“I have something to tell you.” Arya said after stopping in front of her door. 

“What is it?” Arya’s face was flushed from the drinking. 

“It’s my fault that you died.” You frowned at her. 

“I wished you were dead when you saw me with the Brotherhood with Banners. I shouldn’t have said that.” You shushed Arya as you opened her door and walked with her inside. 

Pulling her towards the bed, you sat on the edge, bringing her to sit next to you. “You did not kill me, Arya. This wasn't your doing.” 

“It was. I shouldn’t.” You hugged your sister tight, trying your best to calm her down. 

“None of this is your fault. You were angry and I was a bad sister. I should have done better.” Arya shook her head at you. 

“Look at me.” You exclaimed to her. 

“I died because I was sick. I was tired, the stress was killing me and it didn’t help that I was with a child. My body wasn’t ready and it shut down.” 

“I thought the dog was taking care of you.” Arya spat out. The word Dog took you by surprise. You haven’t heard anyone calling Sandor that in a long time. 

Arya was surprised when you stood up from bed and crossed your arms over your chest. You looked down at her. 

“You will respect Sandor, Arya.” She was about to refuse when you continued on. 

“Joffrey commanded him to kill that boy. He was doing what the prince ordered him to do. I need you to understand that. I’m sorry your friend died. I’m sorry but it wasn’t Sandor’s fault.” 

“He could have sold me off, you know. Could have traded me for food or shelter. He never once made me feel uncomfortable, he never tried anything with me. I was the one to insinuate this relationship. He thought he wasn’t good enough. He thought I deserved better, but I wanted him, only him.” 

“You do know that people will ridicule you for this. For loving a second born son, for loving him. He has no land, no money, he's nobody compared to you. You’re Lady of Winterfell.” Arya spoke. 

“I don’t care. I love him. I trust him with my whole heart.” You told her.  You can see the disbelief in her eyes, they were wide as she thought about what you just said. 

“I’m alive because of him.” 

“You may be alive but as something else.” Arya added, making you roll your eyes. 

“I am alive because of him. I'm standing in front of you in the flesh and breathing. I wouldn’t be here today in front of you if it wasn’t for him and his decision.” You knelt in front of her, holding her hands with yours. 

“He doesn’t know the reason why I was brought back as a wolf. Jon and the red priestess don't know as well. Maybe we will never know but I have every tendency to use this gift, to use this new ability that I have to protect us. I shall protect my family and I shall protect my house.  I will be damned if our house gets betrayed again. Anyone who dares to fuck with us will answer to me. Will you help me?” 

Arya nodded at you. She leaned over to hug you before crying in your arms. Her cries for Ned and Catelyn filled the room, she cried about missing Rickon and Robb. You had forgotten that Arya was still a child. She acted grown and had the capacity to kick someone's ass but at the end of the day she was still a young girl who missed her family. 

You step out of her room after helping her into bed, you haven’t tucked your siblings in years. Robb or Jon were usually the one to help you. Walking down the hallways of Winterfell, you can hear Robb’s laughter. Rickon and Bran shouting in the courtyard as they chased one another. Your hand dragged across the stone walls as you kept walking back to your room. 

“I don’t like him.” Robb confined to you after King Robert walked with Ned to the crypts. 

“The king?” You asked him and he shook his head as both of you walked inside the castle. 

“Joffrey!” You nodded at your brother before letting out a sigh. Tugging the shawl around you when you saw Robb with an annoyed expression. 

“He’s something.” You whispered looking around making sure no was around. 

“I don’t trust him. I don’t like how Sansa  looks at him. Father was right to decline the marriage proposal between Joffrey and you but I have a feeling Robert may ask Sansa to step in.” 

“He’s nothing like Robert.” You said once you stood next to Robb and looked out to see Joffrey standing alongside with his mother. 

You froze in mid step when you stood in front of your bedroom. Joffrey was skinny and had fair skin like his mother. He had blonde hair like his uncle, Jamie. You quickly turned around head towards your brother’s chambers. There were always rumors about Cersei and her twin brother, Jamie. You heard some people had even gone as far as calling them the next Targaryen because of it. Your parents never spoke about it. “Rumors are just rumors.” Ned would say. 

Bran was sitting near the fireplace, his face was emotionless as he stared in the flames in front of him. He looked over his shoulder and answered when the door knocked. 

He raised a brow when you entered. “What happened to our father? Was it true?” 

Bran spoke about everything he saw. He noticed the look in your eye when he told you that Little Finger threatened him. Bran was quiet for a moment after he was done and kept staring at you almost like he was waiting for something to happen. 

“If you can see the future then you know what I’m going to do, right?” You asked him. 

Bran nods at you and you step closer to him. Kneeling down in front of him, you looked at him. “If I do it. If I choose this path will it jeopardize Winterfell?  Will Jon hate me? Will my family hate me?” 

His dark eyes watched as a single tear fell down. Bran leaned forward to wipe your tear away. “You’re a Stark and you will always be one. No matter what you do. Winterfell is yours. It has always been yours.” 

Before you can answer Bran spoke out. “There must be a crowd for this. I’ll do the arrangements for this matter. Sansa and Arya have been dealing with Little Finger since Arya came back. They know what must be done.” Pushing yourself up you walked towards the fire. 

“Will you think less of me, if I do it?” You asked softly. 

“No.” Bran answered you. “I could never think less of you, sister.” You crossed your arms over your chest. 

“You are much stronger than you think. Isaac won’t be the last man to think of you as weak. There will be more, many and you will have to show them all.” Your face dropped at his words and you looked over at him. 

“Your dream won’t stop until you face the truth. You survived your attack with Isaac that day. Sandor is alive because of you. Isaac isn’t coming back.” 

The night also ended with you helping Bran into bed. You were about to leave when you stopped at the doorway. 

“Bran, the Three-Eyed Raven.” You called out to your brother. He looked over at you. Facing him you asked him the question that everyone asked him when he woke up from that fall years ago. 

“Who pushed you off that tower?” Bran remained silent until you shouted the question again. 

“Tell me.”

The great hall was filled the next day. You sat next to Sansa while Bran sat next to her. You watched as the trap was set, your eyes couldn’t help but glance at Little Finger. He looked so smug when the guard brought Arya into the hall. 

Sansa looked over at you. She had told you about Little Finger. You had to admit he was good at tricking people, he was good at lying but with one little slip he did with Sansa and she knew it was a facade. 

“Are you sure about this?” Arya asked Sansa as she stood in the center of the hall. 

“Yes. It’s what honor demands.” Sansa answered. 

“What does honor demand?” You cleared your throat before answering Arya. 

“To defend our family. Our house. The North, alongside with the people that reside in. Avenge those who have been betrayed. Do you agree?”

“I do. Let’s get this done.” You nodded then looked over at Sansa. She wanted to be the one to do it. You allowed her, of course. She needed this and you were going to help her get back at Little Finger. 

“You stand before us accused of murder and treason. How do you answer these charges, Lord Baelish?” Sansa asked, looking over at him. His blue eyes widen as he realizes that Sansa was speaking to him instead of Arya. 

He stutters for a moment. “Do you deny it?” You asked him. 

Lord Baelish looks at her then at you. “Lady Y/n, this seems to be a misunderstanding.” 

He’s about to get near you when one of the guards steps next to you. 

“For starters, let’s talk about how you murdered our Aunt Lysa. Pushing her through the moon door.” Little Finger looked towards you once more but you stared at him with disgust. 

“I did it to protect you, Sansa.” He said softly. 

You rose up. “You did it for power.”

“You also conspired to murder Jon Arryn.” You knew it was over when Sansa spoke all his charges to him. As he looked over, you can hear the thumping sound again ringing in your head. At that moment, you realize it was his heart that you can hear, his heart was beating fast as Sansa spoke out about him conspiring with Cersei Lannister and Joffrey to betray Ned Stark. 

You stood up as Little Finger walked to the table and leaned over to face Sansa. “Lady Sansa, everything I did was for you. Everything I did was to protect you because I love you.” 

“You love me so much that you sold me to the Boltons.” Sansa said, looking at him with tears. 

“If we could speak alone.” He was about to reach out for her hand when you grabbed his wrist, pushing it hard against the table. He let out a yelp as you placed your full weight on his wrist. 

“You must be crazy if you think I will ever leave you alone with my sister ever again.” You whispered harshly to his face. Little Finger let out a whine as you continued to grip his wrist. 

“Lad-.” He let out a scream when his wrist broke in half. The guards looked away when you looked at them. Arya’s eyes grew wide as you looked at everyone in the room. Little Finger slumped over the table before falling down to his knees. He held his broken wrist against his chest as started to sob. 

“ I am, Lord Protector of the Vale and I command you to take me back safely home.” Little Finger yelled as he started to push himself up from the ground. Lord Royce looked away from Little Finger and looked at you instead waiting for your command. 

“Why are you looking at her?” He yelled at the older man. 

“Because they know, Petyr. They all know the truth now.  They all know what kind of man you are. Liar, manipulator but most of all you betrayed Ned Stark.” You said walking around the table to the center to get close with him. Arya got near you with her blade in her hand. 

“Sansa. Sanaa pleasee.” You shook your head at him while he cried for your sister. 

“She won’t help you. No one will.” You gave a nod at Arya and he let out a scream when she cut his calf making him fall back to the ground. 

“Take him outside along with the rest.” The guards next to Lord Royce grabbed Little Finger’s by the arms and dragged him out the hall. 

You looked over at Sansa who tried her best to not break down. “Please bring out Ramsey and his accomplice.” You spoke out to the rest of the guards. 

Arya and Bran watched you grab Sansa’s hand over the table. She held onto you for dear life. 

“You don’t have to see it when it happens. None of you have too.” Sansa rose up from her seat. 

“Make him suffer. Make them all suffer.” Arya and Bran shared a look. Sansa was the one who got hurt by them the most. She didn’t show emotion in front of them when she confirmed what had happened with Ramsey. She didn’t shed a tear to them but they knew. In the late nights Arya found herself standing outside her sister's chambers. Arya can hear her cries. Both sisters didn’t see eye to eye when growing up. They fought and argued. Arya wasn’t never good at comforting anyone. She hated herself the moments when she couldn’t comfort Sansa. 

She was glad you were here now and she was going to help you get back everyone who did wrong to House Stark. 

Lord Royce walked with Sansa and Arya. Bran was near the entrance of the Great Keep. People from Wintertown, the servants, the guards, and a few knights of Vale stood around the courtyard. Others stood on the balcony staring down. They were all watching Lord Baelish alongside the woman who was still loyal to Ramsey. Lastly, Ramsey himself. 

You walked to the courtyard, passing your siblings. 

“Let me prove myself innocent. I deserve that.”  Little Finger cried out. 

“You deserve NOTHING.” You screamed at him. A growl in your chest came out. 

Ramsey barely kept his eyes open. He was sitting on the ground, his bitten leg was frozen completely. It had to begin to turn black and he was completely missing his foot. The flesh and bone was a gory sight, he had bite marks on the right side of his face. His hounds indeed did a number on him. 

“Keep your eyes open.” You said leaning over at him. His eyes opened softly and he looked up at you. 

“I want to see the life draining from your eyes when I kill you.” You whispered. 

You walked back and looked around at the audience before you. “You're all here today to witness what happens when you betray House Stark.” You yelled as loud as you could. 

“Murder.” You hissed looking at Little Finger. 

“Traitor.” The woman flinched when you looked at her. 

“Rapist and a murder.” Ramsey let out a smirk. Even with a missing foot and being a bloody mess he had the nerve to smirk at you. 

“I wish.” Ramsey said before taking a deep breath. His smirk turned into a full on smile. 

“You got to see the look on your sister's face when I took her. The look on your brother’s face when he thought your bastard brother was going to save him.” He lets out a giggle. 

“The look on his face when I shot an arrow in his chest.” Arya held her breath when she saw your shoulders shaking as you stood in front of Ramsey. His viled words made her sick to her stomach. 

The crowd gasped when you walked closer to him, grabbing Ramsay by the collar of his shirt with one hand pulling him close to your face. They started to whisper amongst themselves on how you managed to lift him up with one hand.

Ramsay started to wheeze as you lifted him higher. “I’m going to have so much fun with you.” He frowned as your eyes began to shift. You gave him your own smile and his eyes widened when he saw your canine teeth begin to grow. 

Dropping Ramsey down to the ground, you can hear him coughing as he was trying to catch his breath. You looked over at the woman who looked completely horrified. Little Finger had started to cry when he saw you tilting your head to the side and your eyes began to glow yellow. 

“The North remembers. We will never forget this day.” You yelled, the audience looked shocked as your eyes were now yellow. 

“Open the gates.” Sansa frowned and was about to walk towards you when Arya grabbed a hold of her arm. Arya shook her head at Sansa. This was a part of your plan.

The gates were opened and the woman looked over her shoulder. “I’ll give you a head start.” Her bottom lip started to tremble as you began to untie your cape. 

“You too.” Little Finger’s eyes were wide as you dropped your cape to the ground. He looked at you then over at the gate. He gave a look at the woman who was still shocked and quickly got up. He started to run towards the gate. 

“Arya. If that piece of shit even moves an inch. Hurt him.” You look over at your younger sister who grabbed her knife from her belt. 

“Gladly.” She answered with a smile, peeking over at Ramsey. 

The woman quickly got up from the ground and began to wail as she ran towards the gate. A few feet behind Little Finger. This was your moment to get revenge, this is the time for you to transform again. To use your ability to kill those who betrayed your house. For father, mother, Robb, Rickon, Bran, Sansa, Arya and Jon. 

People were whispering as they saw you undressing in front of them. The moment the dress fell to the ground, you faced everyone in your white undergarment dress. Some looked scared while others had a concerning look on their face. Beric and Thoros held their breath as they watched from the sidelines. They knew this day would come. 

“I am Y/n Stark. Daughter of Lord Eddard and Catelyn Stark and I am their vengeance.” You scream with all your might. You looked ahead, time seemed to have slowed down. You can see Little Finger and the woman had made it out of the gates and were still running to the open field. Falling to your knees you held your breath when you felt your back arched and your bones snapped. 

The Stark siblings watched in amazement when the wolf had taken over your body. Sansa walked a few steps forward when she saw your transformation. She flinched when you let out a howl and began to run, chasing Little Finger and the woman. Ghost let out a howl joining you along with the rest of Ramsey’s hounds. 

People in the sideline followed you behind when you made it out of the gate. Sansa hears a woman scream first, she froze in place next to Bran while the people cheer. 

“Seven hells.” Arya cursed under her breath when the crowd of people began to part by the gate making a path for you. Their eyes were wide as they saw you, an enormous wolf walking back inside the courtyard. Bloody paw prints imprinted on the snow as you walked towards your siblings. Sansa noticed you had something in your mouth when you stopped a few feet away from them. 

She flinched when you threw something at her feet. The people gasped when they saw Little Finger’s head near Sansa’s feet. Her blue eyes stared at your yellow ones, Sansa looked down at Ramsey. 

“Move him to the center.” She told the guards. 

“No. Noo. Sansa.” Ramsey yelled until his voice was strained while being dragged to the center. 

No one did anything as he began to cry and beg for mercy. His screams for Sansa to stop it filled everyone's ears but they were all staring at you. You circled Ramsey, your ears were erect and forward. Your tail high in the air as you opened your jaw open, showing Ramsey your fangs. 

It was when a loud growl echoed through the courtyard with Ramsey’s scream that ended everything. They watched as you bit his other leg, dragging him across the courtyard and throwing him to the other side. The sound of flesh being ripped apart while he screamed. Sansa held her head high when you walked towards her bringing Ramsey’s decapitated head. 

The North will remember this day. No one will ever forget that justice was served and anyone who dares to betray House Stark will end up just like the woman, just like Little Finger and just like Ramsey dead. 

----

It was a day after you left Winterfell with a group when Jon rode with Daenerys and her army into Winterfell. People of Wintertown remained silent as they watched the white haired woman pass through. Arya was hidden behind the people as she watch the army march in, she smiled wide when she saw Jon. Her smile dropped when she saw Sandor on his horse riding with the army. 

If what she had been told about Sandor and you was true then he was going to lose his shit when he found out you weren’t in Winterfell. Arya quickly walked away from the crowd. 

Sansa and Bran stood next to each other while they waited for Jon to arrive in the courtyard. After giving his welcome to his siblings, Jon’s brows rose up in question. 

“Y/n? Arya?” Sansa shared a look with Bran. 

“Arya is lurking somewhere.” 

“Y/n?” Jon asked, looking around. 

“We will speak about it when we get inside. The wall has fallen. The dead march south.” Bran spoke out. His eyes shifted when he looked behind Jon. Sandor had walked into the courtyard looking around for you. 

Sansa didn’t trust Daenerys the moment she saw her. She stared down at her when Jon introduced her. Sansa couldn’t help but not trust anyone who wasn’t a Stark. Perhaps it was because of the trauma she had to endure, everyone who she did trust, just stabbed her in the back. She didn’t trust her but that didn’t mean she wasn’t grateful for Daenerys saving Jon beyond the wall. 

“As soon as we heard about the wall. We called all our banners to retreat to Winterfell.” Sansa spoke loudly to the people in the great hall. 

“Y/n had joined with Lord Umber to gather his people. He needed more horses and wagons. We shall expect them tonight or tomorrow.” 

“Why would she go?” Jon asked, looking over at Sansa.

“She’s the Lady of Winterfell. She wanted to help. The more help they had, the faster Lord Umber’s people will come.” Jon looks away and notices no one will look at him. 

“We need to send a raven to the Night’s watch as well.” Jon spoke out. 

“Y/n had done it already.” Bran spoke. Jon cleared his throat when his brother responded. He got a sense of pride for you in his chest. You had taken control well over Winterfell.   

“Your grace?” Lyanna Mormont spoke out as she stood up. She asked him how they should call him now. They named him The King in the North and now he wasn’t one. They were angry and they wanted answers. Sansa refused to look at Jon when he gave her a look to help him out. 

“I chose the North.” Jon said, explaining to them how he did it for Daenerys to come and help them win this war with the dead. 

“Perhaps we picked the wrong Stark then.” Lyanna Mormont said. The Lords around her quietly agreed. Jon froze at her words, he sat down quietly. Tyrion rose up from his seat trying to ease the tension. It didn’t end well when he announced that the Lannister’s army would be joining them soon. 

Sandor stood in the Winterfell's battlement looking over the roads. He didn’t handle it well when he heard of your departure. He wanted to go to Last Hearth and help you. Help Beric and Thoros as well. He was grateful that they kept their promise to him about keeping you safe. There's no doubt in his mind that they would’ve left you alone. 

“Sandor.” He looks to the right when he hears someone call out his name. He held his breath when he saw Sansa standing a few feet away from him. She held her hands in front of her, she stared at him up and down. 

“Little bird.” Sandor replied with a nod then looked ahead watching the roads again in hopes to see you arriving. 

“Thank you for bringing her back to us.” Sansa told him. 

“Are you?” Sansa nodded at him. 

“I thought your sister and you would kill me for bringing her back as something else.” Sansa took a deep breath before walking closer to Sandor. He turns to face her when she gets close to him. 

For the first time, Sansa was staring up at him with no fear in her eyes. Her eyes held gratitude. 

“There was a time when you couldn’t even look at me.” 

“That was a long time ago, Sandor. I have seen much worse than you.” He chuckled at her and they both looked ahead. 

Sandor contemplated if he should tell Sansa that he was sorry for what has done to her. He felt guilty for not doing more to convince her to go with him and you after escaping King’s Landing. He never wanted to see you cry like that ever again after hearing what had happened to her. 

“Is he dead?” Sansa knew who he meant. “Yes.” 

“How?” He asked her. 

“Hounds didn’t work so a wolf got the job done.” Sansa answered him and the hair on Sandor’s back stood up. 

“Y/n?” He asked her. Sansa confirmed it and Sandor let out a small smile. 

“If you like to see her work, walk to the southern side of the battlements.” Sandor looks towards where Sansa spoke of. 

“Jon saw it?” He asked. 

“He wasn’t very happy with it but the people of Winterfell are. I am.” Sandor and Sansa walked to the southern side. His mouth dropped when he saw three decapitated heads on a spike. 

“It takes you back doesn’t it.” Sansa said, reminiscing that day on the bridge when Joffrey showed her and you Ned's head on a spike.

Sandor looks over at Sansa who kept staring at the decapitated heads. “You changed, Little Bird.” Guilt started to rise inside of him, He should have done more for Sansa to come with them.

“I’m sorr-.” “Don’t.” Sansa cut Sandor’s off. She looks up at him once more. 

“Without them, I would have stayed the same naïve girl you knew in King’s Landing. I’m stronger now and smarter. I have my sisters with me and now we have you with us.” 

Sandor’s eyes widened. “Y/n had the master’s chambers prepared for your arrival. Clean clothes, sheets and everything you’ll need has been provided.” 

“Thank you for bringing my sister back. The North and I will never forget what you did.” Sansa told him before walking away. She called out over her shoulder for a servant to show Sandor the way to the chambers. 

Sandor feels out of place when the servant shuts the door behind him when he enters the master's chambers. He looked around to see the furniture, the table in the center was filled with fruits and bread. He shook his head at the pitcher of ale on the table. You knew him too well. He touched the bed that was filled with blankets of wool and fur. He walks to the end of the bed and finds his name written on a scroll. His eyes widened when he saw a leather cape with black and gray fur stitched around the shoulders and neckline. Underneath he sees a tunic shirt and dark trousers. He leans down when he notices the large and heavy boots. They were good for the snow, Sandor didn’t have to worry about his toes getting frostbite anymore. He held the cape close to his chest, this was all for him. He never wore anything this nice before and he never was gifted anything like this. 

Looking ahead there was a closet nearby. He walked towards it and touched the new clothes, they looked about his size. Different tunics, capes and trousers hung in the closet. He was gracious that you had done this for him. Giving him warm clothes and a good bed but what he longs for was you. He notices your robe hanging from the door. He walks towards it, grabbing the robe and holding it close to his face. He can smell your scent on the robe. His chest aches for you. He wished they had arrived sooner so he could have gone with you to Last Hearth. 

Dinner in Winterfell was awkward at first, he walked inside the hall after one of the servants told him that dinner would be served. Ser Davos and Gendry commented on Sandor’s new clothes and told him that he looks like a true northerner when Sandor sat with them. 

“You cleaned up nice.” Brienne said when she sat in front of Sandor. 

“Fuck off.” Sandor said, making her roll her eyes as he grabbed the pitcher of ale from the table. She remained seated in front of him and they both ate quietly with the rest. 

Word had spread about Sandor and your relationship with him. He can hear the whispers behind his back and the looks people gave him. Northern clothes on a southern man gave the North something to talk about. 

“You heard what she did?” Brienne asked. 

“The heads on the spike.” He nodded at her as he continued to eat his food. 

“What do you think?” Sandor huffed before answering. 

“Good. Fuck them. They deserve it.” Brienne remains quiet for a second. 

“I heard the queen wasn’t too fond of it. Jon didn’t like it either.” Sandor looks up from his plate as he chews his food. 

“The queen didn’t like it? But she’s the one burning people with her dragons if they don’t bend the knee.” Sandor said as he grabbed his cup to take a drink. 

There was a loud crash in the dining hall making everyone stop chatting and eating. Sandor looks ahead to see Sansa and Jon out of their seats standing next to Bran. Jon was yelling at Bran to wake up but Bran had his head thrown back and his eyes were white. 

“He’s warging.” Arya said, looking over at her brother. Bran’s hand gripped the handles of his wheelchair tightly, his plate of food was on the ground. It was a minute later when Bran returned. 

“What happened?” Jon asked to kneel next to Bran who started to sweat. 

“They ran into trouble.” Bran spoke out. “Y/n. Beric.  

“There’s coming now.” 

Grey Worm opened the door of the hall, Daenerys rose up from her seat. Sandor was the first to walk out of the hall when Grey Worm announced that a few Dothraki making their rounds found them miles away from Wintertown. Dinner was cut short and they immediately walked to the courtyard. Arya was standing next to Sansa in the court yard as the guards lit the candles around the yard. The night was cold, Sandor was still shivering under his warm clothes and fur cape as he stood in the battlement. 

Arya kept looking up at Sandor to see him pacing back and forward. 

“Riders coming in!” The guard yelled in the night. Jon watched as survivors of the garrison at East Watch by the sea and Castle Black rode in. A few free folk came in on horses. Sansa looked around to see you. Jon and his siblings watched as the Beric came riding in, the free folks and the survivors stood and watched as you walked in last. 

You were walking alongside your horse. Thoros body draped over the straddle. Jon’s breath hitched at the sight of you. He noticed you were naked under your cape. You walked on the snow with your bare feet, your hair was a mess and you had blood on your hands and feet. Your eyes were bloodshot and you walked like one of the dead. You looked ahead to see your siblings. 

It was quiet for a second, no one said a word. They stared at you as you placed a hand on Thoros’ back. Beric got off his horse and walked towards you. 

“I’ll put him to rest, Lady Y/n.” He spoke to you softly. 

“I’ll help you.” Beric shook his head. “You must rest. You fought hard and well.” 

Jon was about to walk towards you when Tormund spoke loudly. 

“Rest, m’lady. You had protected us during the ride here.” 

Sansa quickly ran towards you when you nodded at the redhead wildling. Jon and Arya followed. Sansa hugged you tight when Tormund and Beric walked away with Thoros’ body. 

“What happened?” Jon asked you. Arya’s frowned as your eyes started to well up in tears. Sansa grabbed your hand. 

“A few wights were residing in Last Hearth. The Night King is almost upon us. We barely made it out.” You told him with a quavering tone. 

You were about to speak again when you heard Sandor.  You looked over Jon’s shoulder. Sansa let your hand go when she saw Sandor standing in the sidelines. The tears fell down your cheeks as you stared at him. You immediately started to walk towards him. 

Daenerys watched as Sandor quickly walked to you practically speed walking. She watched as you leapt into his arms. Sandor held you tight against him, lifting you up so your arms warped around his shoulders. 

Everyone watched as you hugged Sandor. The rumors were proven right, Lady Y/n was with The Hound. Sandor had shoved his face in the crock of your neck as he held you. 

“Never leave me again. Please.” You whispered to Sandor as he settled you down on the ground. He cups your face wiping your tears with his thumbs. 

“Aye. I swear it.” He tells you. 

“He saved me.” You told Sandor. “Thoros saved me. I couldn’t leave him behind. I couldn’t allow him to turn into a wight.” You hugged him once more. 

Sandor didn’t know why his chest felt heavy when you told him about Thoros death. He wasn’t close to him. They fought like cats and dogs during their journey but he saved you.  

“We need to get you inside.” Sandor spoke. You nodded at him. Sandor placed a hand on your lower back to guide back inside the castle when your name was called out. 

Shaken and scared, young Lord Ned Umber walked towards you. He stopped when he saw Sandor staring down at him. Lord Ned Umber pulled his sword out and kneel down on one knee. 

“Thank you, Lady Y/n. I am forever in your debt.” The survivors of House Umber followed their lord and kneel down on one knee. 

“We would have been dead without you.” The young boy stated. 

“Rise, Lord Umber.” You spoke out after watching one by one kneeling in front of you. 

“For centuries our families fought on the battlefield together. You pleaded your loyalty to House Stark again, Lord Umber after your father betrayed us. As long as I am breathing and able to fight, I will help those who plead their loyalty to me. To House Stark.” You spoke out. The people loudly agreed and holler as they banged their weapons together. 

Tyrion looks up at Daenerys to see her staring at you with admiration. Tyrion knew she would have to make you side with her if she wanted to win over the North. He realized what Lyanna Mormont meant when saying they picked the wrong Stark. He hoped this wouldn’t cause an issue between you and Daenerys. He wondered what Ned would think if he saw you now. He watched as Sandor helped you walk inside the castle. After seeing what you have done with the traitors, he knew you had changed. The eerily sensation filled his stomach when he thought back of what Joffrey had done to Ned Stark’s head. This was payback. This was revenge. He wonders what you would do when you see the Lannister army come up to the north. He wouldn’t forget the face Daenerys and Jon had when they saw the decapitated heads, their eyeballs were plucked out, and their tongues were cut. 

Sandor shut the door after a servant bought him a tray of stew. He looks at you as he brings the tray to the table and sits on the chair across from you. He grew worried when you kept quiet. You haven’t spoken when you walked inside the castle. You remained silent when the servant helped you wash. 

“Are you angry with me?” You questioned him before bringing the bowl of stew in front of you. 

Sandor watched as you took your robe off, showing your bare arms. He can see the faint scratch marks on your arms. He pressed his lips in a tight line, he wanted to be angry. He was because you left Winterfell after he told you to stay put but knew he couldn’t be angry. You’re Lady of Winterfell and with that title came with responsibilities. 

“I wish you would’ve sent out more men instead of going yourself.” He answered you. 

“We couldn’t afford to send more men out there. Lord Glover decided not to help us after he heard that Jon was bringing the queen here. I will stand behind Jon Snow, the King in the North was what he wrote to us.” 

“I wasn’t expecting some of the dead to be there.” You told him truthfully. 

“I wasn’t expecting Thoros to die for me. I should have done better. I didn’t see one of them coming behind me. They stabbed him in the chest.” You cried out, wiping your tears away. 

“Thoros did what he was expected to do. To keep you safe. I told him to promise me he would. Beric did as well.” Sandor regretted telling you those words when he saw you look at him with a frown. 

“You made them promise to keep me safe? Thoros would have still been alive if it wasn’t for that.” It was Sandor’s turn to frown now. You were angry. 

Sandor rose up from his seat and walked in front of you. “Thoros died because he wanted to protect you. It wasn’t just because of a promise. If he didn’t want to, he wouldn’t have protected you. I know men who don’t keep their oath and their promises, he’s not one of them. He did it because he wanted to. He and Beric  agreed without hesitation.” 

Sandor kneels down next to you when you didn’t meet his eyes. “And when the time comes that I have to die to protect you. I will without hesitation and without regret because I love you.” 

You turned to look at Sandor when he said those very words you had told him before many times. He never said it once to you before.  

“You love me?” You asked him. 

“Aye. I do.” Sandor nodded. “I love you, my little wolf.” 

You leaned down close to him, he closed in with his lips pressing against yours. You cupped his face as he deepened the kiss. The stew was long forgotten when you wrapped your arms around his neck. Sandor stood up, taking you into his arms.

“I love you too. I love you so much.” You told him, Sandor lets out a smile. The feeling he always had when you told him you loved him multiplied. He was loved, and he loved you. He had forgotten all about his troubles and his worries. 

You lead him towards the bed making him sit on the edge. You stood between his legs, kissing him. His hands rest on your hips pulling you close to him, tight against him he wanted you. He wants you badly, he grows hard just by your kisses just by your touch. He hears you moan when he kisses your neck, nipping your skin. 

His hands go under your nightgown, he feels how soft and warm you are. You let out a squeal at his cold hands. 

“You’re freezing. Haven’t gotten used to the North yet, I see.” You asked with a smirk. 

“I have been freezing my balls off all day.” Sandor replies as he pushes the gown up and cups your ass. 

“We can’t have that. Can we?” He smiles up at you as you start to undress him. He felt like the luckiest man alive. Being kissed by a person like you. Beautiful. Strong. Intelligent. A fighter. 

He felt so lucky that you chose him to love him. To continue to love him with all his flaws, with half of a burnt face and a troubled past. He watched as you took off your nightgown after removing his coat along with his shirt. Sandor latched on to your bare skin, kissing it pulling up against his chest as his hands roamed around your body. 

“Come here.” He tells you, making you sit on his lap. Chest to chest, you wrapped your arms around his neck. Sandor lets out a moan as you grind against his hard on, the fabric of his trouser grew wet by your aroused. 

“You’re not afraid of me?” You asked him softly against his neck. Sandor looks at you. 

“You must know by now what I did. Someone must’ve told you.” You said as your hands wandered on his chest. 

“Are you afraid of me?” He asked you, making you frown. 

“Of course not. I love you.” You said. Sandor lets out a small smile as he looks at your face. He brings his hand to cup your face, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. 

“You have your answer.” He mumbles as he pulls your bottom lip. You grab his wrist, taking his thumb in your mouth. Sucking his thumb as you grind on him.

“Fuck.” He says when you playfully bite the tip of his thumb. 

“Lay down.” You tell him. Sandor was too slow and you pushed him on the bed completely catching him off guard. He was too busy staring at your naked body. You crawl up towards him, you moan when you drag your cunt against his stomach.  Caging his head with your arms, you leaned down to kiss him. 

“I want to ride you.” You whispered shyly at him as you kissed his scarred cheek. He cups your ass with his large hands, squeezing the fat of your ass. 

“Let me get you ready.” You shake your head and he drops his mouth when he touches your sopping cunt. You were so wet. 

He was about to get up when you pushed him back down. He doesn’t move when you start to move down, quickly your hands unties the laces of his trousers. He watches as your eyes widen by his hard cock. Your jerk off his cock with both hands for a moment before pushing yourself up to get into position. 

Placing a hand on his hairy chest, you let out a whine when you sit down on his cock slowly. His cock was splitting you open, it’s been far too long since you’ve been intimate with him. Sandor moans when you sit down completely on his cock. He can feel your walls clenching around him. His hips were starting to thrust upwards when you placed both hands on chest, stopping him completely. 

His toes curl in his boots when you move your hips, your cunt is so wet. He grabs a hold on your outer thighs when you start to bounce on his cock. He can’t stop looking at your face, so beautiful you looked. Your mouth is parted as you moan while riding him. Your hair was thrown over your shoulder. 

The bed dipped every time you sank down his cock. Rising your hips up and down slowly trying to get used to him. He watches you with hooded eyes, he bites his bottom lip to not cry out. 

He rubs his hands up and down the side of your body as you ride him. Your breathy moans and his grunts mixed together with the sound of your wet cunt.  He feels your coming to end, he knows the moment you make a whiny noise. He starts to thrust up making you shout in pleasure. 

“Cum for me.” He tells you as he pulls your hips down. He wants to make you cum, he wants to feel you cumming on his cock. He doesn’t stop trusting his hips up, not when you’re moaning so loud. He wraps you around when you start to cum. You had fallen on his chest when you came. 

He stays hard, your whining makes him hard. He grinds his hips making you cry out. You push yourself up on his chest. Leaning down, you kiss him gently. 

“It’s your turn. I want you to cum. Please inside of me. I want to feel you deep in me.” You whisper to him. 

“On your back.” He tells you after he kisses you. He smirks at the dopey smile you had on your face when you rolled on the bed. He looks over at you as he tips his boots off and removes his trousers leaving it on the ground. 

He groans as he jerks himself as he stares at you. Pretty thing, on your back, legs spread open. He can see the lips of cunt are swollen and wet. He notices your cheeks grew red when you saw him looking at you. Sandor swore his ears started to ring when you began to tease him. Bringing a hand down to your cunt, rubbing your clit in front of him. Just like how he showed you. The first time he showed you, he wouldn’t forget the look on your face when he used his fingers to make you cum. He gets on the bed and tugs you towards him. It was your turn now to watch him. 

His cock was painfully hard now, precum dripping from his thick head. He notices your glossy eyes when pushes your legs against your chest. He rubs the head of his cock against your cunt. Slowly up and down, even smacking a few times on your clit making you moan out. 

“Please.” You beg him to put it in. “Sandor.” 

He senses your frustration and he continues to play with your cunt. He gathers your slick and rubs it around your cunt. He pushes his cock in, he lets out a moan when your lips spread on his cock. 

He slides in and out of you slowly. He’s grabbing the blankets underneath you to control himself. You're already trembling under him and your pussy is pulsating around him. 

He cries your name out and he snaps his hips hard making you cry out. 

“Fuck!” He grunts against your name as he quickly thrusts into you. He ruts into you fast and hard. You had pulled him by the beard towards your face so you could kiss him. He’s panting against your neck as your pussy is squelching with each thrust. 

Sandor comes with a growl making you cry out. He holds you down with his weight as he fills your womb with his seeds. You continued to embrace him, enjoying the sensation of behind weight down and filled. Sandor kisses your shoulders, butterfly kisses on your skin he gives you. Before he starts to get up to get comfortable with you in bed. He moves his hand to turn your head towards him. He pulls you into a surprise kiss. You open your mouth when you feel his tongue against your bottom lip. He sinks his hands into your hair pulling it gently making you moan in his mouth.

 Both of you pull away in need for air, “Fuck, Y/n.” He whispered out of breath against your cheek. You give him a smile when he looks down at you. 

Sandor wakes up in the middle of the night in thirst. Carefully getting out of the bed without waking you up. He let out a sigh when he saw there was no ale left, quickly getting dressed. He walked out of the room quietly to not disturb you. He knew you needed your rest. He was about to walk past the great hall with the empty pitcher in his hand when he saw voices coming from inside. The light from the candles glowed under the parted doors of the hall. 

As he got closer to the doors of the hall. He heard Tormund’s voice booming from the inside. 

“The moment Thoros shut his eyes and died. There was a growl.” Sandor stopped between the doors to look inside. 

Tormund was sitting on top of the tables with a crowd around him. Some were the free folks while others were guards of the Vale and from the Stark. Tormund took a sip from his horn cup and his eyes widened when he raised his hands up. 

“The wolf came out! Scared some of the people but they held their ground. They had too because the moment the wolf came out. The dead knew. So Lady Y/n took them one by one while we got our horses ready. Ripping their limbs or their heads off. We thought the coast was clear but we were wrong.” Sandor held his breath as Tormund continued. 

“Beric and I had to hold on to Lady Y/n’s horse. Thoros was strapped on the staddle. She refused to leave him behind. Nearly bit Beric’s leg and my ass off to make sure.” 

“The ride here ? How was that?” One of the servants asked. 

“Did the dead follow you guys?” A soldier asked frantically. 

“They did follow us and when they are near, the weather worsens. Almost shit myself because of it!” Tormund answered with a nod. His blue eyes looked around the people around him. 

“She ran alongside with our horses. Any dead that got near us, she would run around and take them down.” Sandor decides to walk away to the kitchen. He didn’t need to hear anymore of his story. You told him what had happened afterwards, being intimate with him. He asked you for the story while you laid on top of him. His fingers were running through your hair while the other rubbed your back as you told him. 

Sandor was relieved when he saw the kitchen empty. Quickly refilling the pitcher, he made his way back to the chambers. He shut the door behind him and looked at your sleeping form. He leaned against the door continuing to stare at you. He admired you from afar, he stared at the way that your chest rose up and from down with each breath you took. He can see the love bites on your breast and shoulders. Your bare leg was peeking out of the wool blankets. 

Sandor takes a sip straight from the pitcher when he remembers what you told him before falling asleep. It made his eyes filled with unshed tears. 

“I would die protecting you as well. No hesitation and no regret. I would do it in a heartbeat.” 

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Game of Thrones Fic List

🖤= tw:dark content

🍑= smut

📚= series/multi-part

💌= requested

For Whom the Bell Tolls (Margaery Tyrell x Baratheon!Reader)

A glance and a sassy comment. The more time you two spent alone together, the less of a sister you became to one another. It wasn’t your intention to fall in love with the wife of your brother. You had never really felt bad about it when Maragery was married to Joffrey, but now that she was wed to your sweet Tommen. . . You couldn’t do that to your sweet lion.

Between Saints and Sinners (Sandor Clegane x Reader)

It had been years since you last saw Sandor Clegane. Years since you had last been in employment at Lord Baelish’s brothel.

A Stark Bride (Aegon Targaryen i x Stark!Reader)

Aegon Targaryen reduced your father, Torrhen Stark, to a mere lord. The Targaryen conqueror had taken the title of king for himself. You wanted to depise them, those beautiful Targaryens with their lavender eyes and silver tresses. But they were beautiful. Terrifying and beautiful just like their dragons.

Promises (Oberyn Martell x Reader) 🖤

Having witnessed the brutal murder of your family, your uncle Oberyn is the only one to fend off your nightmares and the only one you could ever feel an attachment to.

Shedding Skin (Arthur Dayne x Targaryen!Reader) 

You wouldn't let your brother Rhaegar humiliate you. No. Faking your own death, you travel to Dorne and there shed your dragon skin to become a new person. A happier person.

A Touch of Gold (Margaery Tyrell x Stark!Reader)

If Renly was to have a lover, then Margaery wanted one as well. And she decided that it just had to be the visiting (y/n) Stark.

Gold and Red (Jaime Lannister x Reader) 🍑

How could you bring yourself to have sex with your child husband? Jaime, however, was a full grown man.

Stupid, Pretty Little Things 🖤

She was the only gift Joffrey wanted for his name day. And Joffrey would be damned if anyone forbade him to what was his.

Targaryen Daughters 

After so long staying safely hidden in the privacy of a Sept, you discover your younger sister Daenerys is very well alive. Alive and with three dragons.

A Good, Mean Dog (Sandor Clegane x Baratheon!Reader) 📚

The Princess and the Hound. What a story that would be

Horns That Hold A Crown (Rhaegar Targaryen x Baratheon!Reader)

The only daughter of Steffon Baratheon, and to Aerys you were th eonly suitable bride for his son Rhaegar. Your previokus engagement to Ned Stark was broken. Now you found yourself the bride of a dragon instead that of a wolf.

Ruined Hallelujah (Margaery Tyrell x Baratheon!Reader)

You had expected such a move from Robert, maybe even Stannis, but never from your brother Renly. He was well aware of your affair with Margaery, even supported it. Yet he had married you off to Robb Stark, King in the North.

Misfit (Daenerys Targaryen x Greyjoy!Reader) 🖤

Nightmares, your nightmares were filled with the blazing symbol of a kraken. As you travel with your siblings to Meereen you hope Queen Daenerys would be willing to help you in defeating Euron.

One True Queen (Rhaegar Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader)📚

What he had done was the greatest insult to you. One that you thought he would never do. You knew he loved you with all his heart, that was certain. You were his sister and his wife. However, that all changed when he took Lyanna Stark as his second wife.

Knight in Blue and Red (Rhaegar Targaryen x Tully!Reader)

You wanted to be in charge of Riverrun when your father died, but because you were the third and youngest daughter of Hoster Tully that was highly impossible. You would show him. Show him that you would be a better successor than your brother Edmure.

Belladonna  (Young Robert Baratheon x Reader)

With the death of his father, Robert Baratheon found himself the young lord of Storm's End. A new lordship requires a wife.

Dragon (Daenerys Targaryen x Reader)📚

She had trusted her Unsullied with her life. That was why when one attacked her with a knife she doesn't have him killed. Instead Daenerys wants to get down to the problem. Only when she removes the Unsullied's helmet she is met with the face of a young girl.

A Lion’s Vow (Jaime Lannister x Stark!Reader)💌

This game the both of you played was your only real entertainment in the mess that was the Red Keep. Knowing it’s true nature, your father attempted to keep you close to his side. Reminding you not to trust anyone easily, especially those that belonged to the House of the Lion. 

A Mouse in a Lion’s Den (Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader)📚

A little mouse surrounded by ferocious lions? It didn't look to be a good situation, even if those lions happened to be your family.

Exiled (Arthur Dayne x Reader)💌

You run into Ser Arthur Dayne in Essos. Along with a dark haired, gray eyed child.

Glow (Daenerys Targaryen x Reader)

Why she had taken a liking to you among all the others she had freed, you would never know. You had been a personal whore for one of the masters and had gotten pregnant. There were many others like you. Your story was nothing special, but Dany had found you worthy enough to be her close companion. There were even times when you thought that maybe you could be more than her companion.

The Doe That Chases the Hound (Sandor Clegane x Baratheon!Reader)

Normally in a hunt it was a hound’s duty to chase down deer. You went against the natural order of things. This time it was the doe who sought after the hound.

Crimson Lady (Ramsay Bolton x Bolton!Reader, Sansa Stark x Bolton!Reader) 🖤

Sansa should have known better. Of course she'd be every part of a Bolton as her brother Ramsay was.

Loveless (Rhaegar Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader) 🖤💌

There was nothing Rhaegar could do about your sudden engagement. Try as he might, he couldn’t persuade Aerys to marry you to him. It didn’t matter that he proclaim his undying love for you. Didn’t matter how you got on your knees in front of the iron throne and begged him to reconsider. Instead of mercy, the Mad King simply laughed at you.

Just For You (Ramsay Bolton x Reader) 🍑💌

The cruel Ramsay Bolton has an unknown side to him. Not just for anyone though. Only for the maid whom he loves to taunt. 

From the Ashes (Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader)📚

A year has passed since (y/n) and her brother Jaime fled from King's Landing to the vast and foreign world of Essos.

Mine First, Mine Last, Mine Even in the Grave (Ramsay Bolton x Reader) 🍑

Even at such a young age, Ramsay was proving a difficult and willful child. He was somewhat twisted in nature that sometimes disturbed his mother. However once he laid eyes on the little baby, he immediately grew attached to her.

Birth of Dragons (Aegon i Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader) 📚

It wasn’t fair of him to choose a favorite between his sisters. Fearless Visenya, playful Rhaenys and loving (y/n). Above them all he secretly placed (y/n) close to his heart.

The Most Impossible Battle (Robert Baratheon x Targaryen!Reader) 🍑

Robert hated all Targaryens. Wise words from those close to him though make Robert Baratheon give in to the idea of taking (y/n) Targaryen as his bride.

Wrap Around (Oberyn Martell x Martell!Reader) 📚🖤

Oberyn was beside himself at the return of his baby sister (y/n). For a year she had been off in Essos, experiencing the rest of the world outside of the safety of Sunspear. Now she was returning to Dorne. Returning to Oberyn.

By Any Other Name (Margaery Tyrell x Reader)

Another Life (Rhaegar Targaryen x Stark!Reader)

Lyanna watches Jon from atop of the courtyard's parapet, her eyes crinkling with pride as she watches Jon best Theon Greyjoy at the dance of swords. Every victory Jon made resulted in him outgrowing the label of bastard. He was so much more than a bastard of Winterfell. Not even Catelyn saw him as such. Many were so shocked when the news came that Ned had brought back his bastard one day. In fact Cat had shown up at Winterfell by his side as he held the infant in his arms, for she was one of three that knew the truth about Jon Snow. 

What We Sow (Theon Greyjoy x Greyjoy!Reader) 🍑🖤💌

This was his home, a place where the salt of the sea and the cries of seagulls were a constant presence and where you were. Waiting so patiently as always. His queen, his sister, his wife. He'd been dreaming of the moment when he'd be reunited with you after so long. 

Omission (Theon Greyjoy x Stark!Reader)💌🍑

Robb wasn't being dramatic when he claimed your change toward Theon. From innocent children to teenagers, everything happened so fast that you weren't really able to comprehend what was going on with your own head. When Theon first arrived to your family, you were a small child. You and Robb grew attached to him immediately. For so long you saw him as a brother. Then it just stopped the moment you bled.

[atomic--peach]

Her Grace's Handmaiden Pt.6

(Cersei x Fem Reader x Jaime. Sandor Clegane x Fem Reader)

AO3 VERSION: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340

"Are you happy now?" Robert raged as Cersei gazed dispassionately at him. "It's not enough you bring your whore across the fucking continent; you have to make a show of fucking her in front of the whole camp?"

"You don't bother to hide your infidelities" Cersei glowered, "why should I hide mine?"

"You humiliated me!" Robert slammed his cup on the nearest table, pouring himself another helping of strong ale.

Cersei simmered in silence. She knew what she did was foolish, but the satisfaction of the court knowing King Robert was the cuckold for once was almost worth it.

"It was an offense to The Faith, not to mention High Treason! I should have both your heads on pikes"

"Robert, please. It's not like she can father my bastards, like your mistresses have."

Robert's bloated face blanched at this, and Cersei rolled her eyes.

"Oh, don't act like it was some big secret."

Robert's rage returned, further fueled by indignation.

"Out of my sight, woman. Before I have you scourged in front of the whole camp."

She left willingly, knowing exactly where she would find you.

Jaime had been charged with keeping you company while Cersei received her tongue lashing, and the queen found the two of you at play like a couple of teenagers.

"Sister" Jaime grinned, his arm pressed against yours as the two of you held a thin candle between your forearms. "You're just in time to watch this little minx lose."

"How are you?" You ignored Jaime's taunts as the flame grew closer to your skin. "What did he say? Am I to be sent away?"

"I don't know. He didn't say much of consequence, he mostly just blustered." Cersei poured herself a glass of wine and watched the flame between your arms sink lower. Jaime was starting to sweat now.

You frowned, unsatisfied.

As it had turned out, Cersei's little exhibition had spread through the camp like wildfire. You received looks ranging from awe to disgusted from everyone you passed the morning after, and certain people wouldn't even look you in the eye anymore.

"Just ignore them, sweetling." Cersei had said. "They don't matter."

To your great relief, Sandor didn't seem to care at all. All he said when he heard was "It's about time."

Sandor had become something of a comfort to you this past month, and while he tried to treat you with mostly indifference, it was clear he was partial to you as well.

"FUCK" Jaime cursed as the flame reached his skin, flicking wax off his forearm and rubbing the bright red skin soothingly. "Have you no sense of pain?"

You didn't answer, only smiling coyly and kissing the burn on his flesh. "Poor baby"

"I should finish packing your things, Your Grace." You sighed, standing and brushing grass off your dress. "We'll reach Winterfell by this afternoon."

The last stretch of the ride was surprisingly easy. Your mare had adjusted to your leadership, and your body had grown accustomed to the long distances.

"Are you sure you're not embarrassed to be riding next to Queen Cersei's Whore?" You teased Clegane as he mounted Stranger next to you.

"Not as embarrassing as trying to keep her little cunt of a son alive long enough to inherit."

"Sandor" you hushed him with a blush, fearing you would be heard. "You mustn't joke like that. I'm on thin ice as it is."

Sandor made a guttural scoffing sound and eyed the horizon.

Winterfell was truly, unbelievably massive.

It had to be, to house as many people as possible when the harsh winter inevitably fell upon the land. What were those ever-ominous house words?

Winter is Coming.

"Clegane, Y/N" The king's squire rounded his horse along side Stranger. "The King wishes to speak with the two of you, right now."

"Now?" You blinked but steered your horse behind Sandor, who seemed equally skeptical as you neared the large, rumbling royal coach. The King, it seemed, had opted to arrive in style rather than on horseback.

"Halt" a voice called, and Robert exited the litter, followed by an unusually tense and somber Cersei. One look at her face, and you could sense something was horribly awry.

"You asked to see us, Your Grace?"

"Indeed" Robert breathed, looking very pleased with himself. "I thought the two of you ought to know, shortly after our arrival at Winterfell, the two of you are going to be married by a Septon of the Faith of The Seven. Congratulations."

You very nearly fell off your horse in shock.

"Y-Your Grace, I don't understand I-"

"Young Lady," The King whipped back around, his jovial face replaced with a look of contempt. "I ought to have you stripped naked and whipped through the streets of Kings Landing for treason, do you understand that?"

His tone shocked you into submission and you gazed at the ground fearfully.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Instead, I'm showing you something called mercy. I'm allowing you to keep the skin on your back and solving our current issue as diplomatically as I can. You should be on your knees thanking me, instead of talking back."

"Yes, Your Grace. I'm very sorry." You nodded, "Thank you for showing mercy, I will strive to be worthy of it."

"And you." Robert eyed Clegane. "Bed her, ignore her, lock her in a sept somewhere for all I care. Just keep her away from my wife."

Sandor nodded slowly and you cast your gaze on Cersei whose face was twisted into a look of utter frustration and disappointment.

As the litter took off once more, a deep coldness settled into your stomach. You should have known it was too good to be true.

"Y/N?"

"I am so sorry."

"I-" Sandor paused, considering his next words. "I didn't expect that, did you?"

"No." You shook your head. "Oh Gods, Sandor I am *so* sorry. I never meant for you to get dragged into this. If I had known-"

"He didn't kill you" Sandor cut you off. "Just be grateful for that for now."

"How are you so calm about this?" You turned to face him, "In fact, this whole trip you have been unnervingly cavalier about this whole situation. You were just ordered by your king to marry some no named nobody from flea bottom who's only claim to fame is being the Queen's whore. And you don't even seem upset."

Sandor shrugged, "I've done far worse things on the orders of far worse men than Robert Baratheon. Besides, it's just marriage. I can't imagine it will change things much. On my end anyway."

It's just marriage.

You thought this over a moment. It was true, High-borns married complete strangers all the time. And it wasn't like you and Sandor were *complete* strangers.

"I guess I haven't thought about it like that." You nodded, somehow soothed by his lack of response. "You're right. We just need to...roll with the punches."

You took off a little ahead of him, and Sandor watched your back as you went, oddly enough noting that your riding form had improved immensely.

"You took that remarkably well."

Sandor stifled an irritated groan as the Kingslayer rode up beside him.

"Fuck off"

"No, it's true. You did." Jaime insisted. "I'm impressed."

Sandor attempted to move ahead of him, but Jaime kept pace.

"Seriously though" Jamie grew more somber. "She's a sweet girl. I doubt she even fully understood what she was getting herself into. I'd hate to see her stuck in a life of misery because of this."

Sandor cast him a poisonous glare, swallowing a mouthful of insults and instead saying;

"Just because you've had your cock in her doesn't mean you know anything about her, Kingslayer."

Before sending his horse into a gallop to catch up with you.

You arrived in Winterfell with much pomp and fanfare.

Keeping yourself concealed from the main group, you watched as the official greetings were exchanged, bows and curtseys and full honors bestowed, until Robert separated from the party to pay respects at the crypts.

When the king was well out of sight and there was commotion loading and unloading wagons, Cersei pulled you aside.

"I did everything I could" were the first words out of her mouth.

"I thank you." You wanted to take her hand but did not dare. Not now. "Honestly, it's a better punishment than I could have dared hope."

"Indeed?" Cersei pulled a tense smile, "I thought you and Clegane weren't-"

"We..." you searched for the words, "We've settled into each other. If that makes sense."

"Ah" Cersei's face was tight but tried to remain neutral, "That makes things easier then, I suppose. All the same, I'll find something for you to do in the Keep, sweetling. I won't let him win."

You smiled gratefully, excusing yourself to unload and carry her bags to her and Robert's shared room.

As you left, Cersei found herself wondering exactly which *him* she meant.

[vivacissimx]

Thrice does Arya Stark offer water to dying men. First, the Karstark prisoners sentenced to death for their crimes in the Riverlands, then a heavily injured Sandor Clegane, and finally a young man in the process of committing suicide in the House of Black and White.

They all seemed to be looking at her, the living and the dead alike. The old man had squeezed three fingers out between the bars. "Water," he said, "water."

Arya swung down from her horse. They can't hurt me, they're dying. She took her cup from her bedroll and went to the fountain. "What do you think you're doing, boy?" the townsman snapped. "They're no concern o' yours." She raised the cup to the fish's mouth. The water splashed across her fingers and down her sleeve, but Arya did not move until the cup was brimming over.

—ASOS, Arya V

Long before noon, Sandor Clegane was reeling. There were hours of daylight still remaining when he called a halt. "I need to rest," was all he said. This time when he dismounted he did fall. Instead of trying to get back up he crawled weakly under a tree, and leaned up against the trunk. "Bloody hell," he cursed. "Bloody hell." When he saw Arya staring at him, he said, "I'd skin you alive for a cup of wine, girl."

She brought him water instead. He drank a little of it, complained that it tasted of mud, and slid into a noisy fevered sleep.

—ASOS, Arya XIII

In the center of the temple she found the water she had heard; a pool ten feet across, black as ink and lit by dim red candles. Beside it sat a young man in a silvery cloak, weeping softly. She watched him dip a hand in the water, sending scarlet ripples racing across the pool. When he drew his fingers back he sucked them, one by one. He must be thirsty. There were stone cups along the rim of the pool. Arya filled one and brought it to him, so he could drink. The young man stared at her for a long moment when she offered it to him. "Valar morghulis," he said.

"Valar dohaeris," she replied.

—AFFC, Arya I

There is a lot of handwaving about how in Arya's storyline mercy=death, but it's important to recognize that Arya also shows mercy in the face of death. Despite her own misgivings about the Northmen guilty of rape & pillaging (She wanted to hit them. She wanted to hurt them. She wanted to cry) as well as Sandor (I bet he's killed a hundred Mycah's) it still moves her to see them at a point of suffering. Moves her to commit the ultimately meaningless but still deeply compassionate act of offering them water. It reminds me of Arya throwing the axe to Rorge, Biter, and Jaqen, lest they burn to death; of her attempts to rationalize the deaths of her assigned targets as bettering the world in some way.

It's all connected. Arya offering the water to the prisoners motivates the Brotherhood Without Borders members to take pity on the starving, rotting men by condemning their torture and killing them quick. It's possible that Arya's efforts tide Sandor over until his fever breaks. The man in the Temple was already dying from a stab wound, but after drinking from Arya's proffered cup, chooses to seek out his final resting place in an alcove.

Death may be the final mercy, but a cup of water is the first.

[holb32]

The Hound and the Lioness

Sandor Clegane x fem!reader - Smut -

Part One!

Summary - Gianna Lannister is the youngest daughter of Tywin Lannister from his second wife Lynnette Stark. When Gia rushes in to help Sansa Stark, after her nephew humiliates her, the king suddenly has a 'brilliant' idea... or so he says.

A/N - This is only the second time I've done something like this... so bare with me please.

WARNINGS - If you are UNDER 18 then DO NOT read! Forced marriage, loss of virginity, blow job, blood, PIV, maybe breeding kink and size kink, literally has no plot just doing this coz I had an idea! If I've missed anything that should be added as a warning then please let me know!

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Gianna watched from the crowd that had gathered in the throne room, as Joffrey terrorised poor Sansa Stark, again.

"You're here to answer for your brother's latest crimes. What do you have to say?" Joffrey aimed his armed crossbow at the Stark girl as she kneeled before him.

"Your Grace, whatever my traitor brother has done, I had no part in it!" The poor girl began to sob, "You know this, Your Grace. I beg-" Joffrey had cut her off before she could finish, Ser Lancel, tell her what her brother has done!" Demanded Joffrey.

As Ser Lancel stepped forwards, so did Gianna. She always knew something wasn't right with her eldest nephew. He was evil, one of the evilest beings she's ever come across. Gia was appalled with his actions and about the fact that no one could make him stop, not even his mother.

"Using some vile sorcery your brother fell on Stafford Lannister with an army of wolves." Lancel announced. Gianna couldn't understand how people actually believe this stuff. So she rolled her eyes and mentally face palmed herself, ridiculous fools, she thought to herself.

"Thousands of good men were slaughtered, after the butchering, the Northmen feasted on the meat of the slain." This made the crowd surrounding them gasp and whisper in horror. War was a dreadful thing, Gianna knew that, but she really couldn't see that happening. At least not on Robb Stark's orders or his mothers. When she first met them, when she went with her older sister Cersei and her family to Winterfell, she'd gotten on well with the Starks.

"Killing you would, mayhaps, send your traitor brother a message." Gianna snapped out of her thoughts at that, surely he's not really contemplating that? The poor Stark girl began to weep, "But my mother insists on keeping you alive, unfortunately. Stand." Sansa stood at the king's orders, ever the obedient Lady Stark. Gianna's pity for the girl grew day by day. She didn't deserve this, no one did.

"So, we'll just have to send your brother a message some other way." Gianna took another step forward, just so she stood slightly out of the crowd, as if she might run towards young Lady Stark, she was family after all, distant but still family. "Meryn." The unspoken order was spoken and Joffrey's favoured Kingsguard stepped towards Sansa, "Leave her face, I like her pretty." And with that Sansa was punched to the stomach.

Gianna gasped and tried to step forwards, but before anyone could truly notice, her handmaid Dalia grabbed her arm, "No, my Lady. I do not think it wise to step in." Gia didn't take her eyes off Sansa. Meryn took out his sword and struck the backs of her legs, so she fell to the floor.

"Meryn, my dear lady's over-dressed. Unburden her." The Knight stood behind poor Sansa and ripped the back of her dress open, "If you want Robb Stark to hear us, we're going to have to speak louder!" Ser Meryn took out his sword again, swinging it over his head, "What is the meaning of this?"

The crowd split to allow Gianna's brother, Tyrion Lannister, to make his way through along with his man Bronn. "What kind of Knight beats a helpless girl!" Snaps Tyrion. "The kind who serves his king, Imp!" Meryn Snapped back. Gianna hated that man, he was just as vile and cruel as her nephew. "Careful now, we wouldn't want to get blood all over your pretty white cloak." Bronn, even though he irritated Gia sometimes with his crude words, managed to shut the Knight up.

"Would someone get the girl something to cover herself with." Gianna and Sandor 'The Hound' stepped forward towards Sansa. "It's alright sweet girl, Tyrion will handle Joffrey." Whispered the young Lannister Lady as the Hound grabbed his White Cloak over her shoulders.

"She's to be your queen. Do you have no regard towards her honour?" Questioned Tyrion, "I'm punishing her!" Tyrion gaped, "For what crimes? She's not fighting her brother battles you half wit!" Gianna helped Sansa stand, wrapping the girl in her arms.

"Your behaviour is despicable, Nephew! She's done nothing wrong!" Gia shouted. The Stark girl shook in the Lannister Lady's arms. "Neither of you can speak to me like that! The king can do as he likes!" Again Lady Lannister rolled her eyes, "The Mad King did as he liked! Look where that got him! Killed by his own guard, his people rebelled against him. Is that what you want to be done to you? For people a hundred years from now to remember you as the king who beat helpless Ladies?" Snapped Gianna, turning to her brother, "Perhaps they'll title him 'The Half-wit King', brother?" The people in the room sniggered and gasped. Gia swore she heard The Hound huff amusingly behind her.

"No one threatens his Grace in the presence of the kingsguard!" Meryn rushed towards Gianna, threateningly. "I'm not threatening him, Ser. I'm merely giving my nephew some... advice." Gianna didn't bother to look at Ser Meryn. "Bronn the next time Ser Meryn speaks, kill him." Tyrion said in a bored manner, turing to Ser Meryn, "Now that was a threat... see the difference?!" Gia chuckled at her older brother, they'd always been close, even since she was a little girl.

Tyrion walked towards his little sister and Sansa, leading them away. "I apologise for my nephew's behaviour. Tell me the truth, do you want this wedding to happen?" Spoke Tyrion softly, "We could try to get the engagement broken, if you'd like?" Gia rubbed the girls shoulders and they walked, "I am loyal to king Joffrey-" Stated Sansa, pulling out of Gianna's arms, "He is my one true love." With that she walked ahead of them, her ladies maids following her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gianna was summoned back to the throne room, a couple hours later. As she walked in she realised that the crowd had only gotten bigger. At the throne sat her nephew, on both sides of him were his mother, Gianna's only and older sister, and the hand, who was Gianna's father. At the bottom of the stairs to the throne stood the kingsguard.

"You summoned me, Your Grace." Gianna stood before her family. She had changed into a more comfortable dress, since she was planning to go horse riding after. "Yes, I did." Signed Joffrey. "Tell me, Dear Aunt. Do you think the way you spoke to me earlier was appropriate? Especially of a Lady." Questioned the king.

Gianna looked towards her father at that moment, his face was emotionless. So she looked towards her kingsguard brother, he looked nervous for her. "I said what I thought to be true, Your Grace." She wouldn't lie. He needed to be told. Cersei scoffed, "You're king deserves more respect from you." Gianna rolled her eyes, "DO NOT ROLL YOUR EYES AT ME!" Screeched Cersei. "My apologise, sister."

"You know, I'll have to punish you." Gia's heart began to race. Surely her father wouldn't allow that. She was his daughter, and she knew he favoured her out of all his children. Looking towards him again she saw that his face was still, emotionless.

"You see, I've had a few hours to... come up with your punishment. Mother helped me." They both chuckled. "You're young, unmarried, pretty. What better punishment is there than to marry you to a... hound." The crowd gasped at their king's words. Joffrey laughed hysterically. "Mother's always calling you a bitch, so it seems quite fitting! Don't you think?!" I glanced towards 'The Hound' . He stood tall, but you could tell he was angry.

"Your Grace I don't think that's-" Tywin tried to reason with his grandson, he didn't want to drag his house through the mud again. "Silence!'' shouted Joffrey. "Hound stand by your bride to be!" Sandor reluctantly moved to stand beside Gianna. "The Hound and his bitch. He's so massive I'm sure he'll split her open when he takes her maidenhead!" Gianna looked down in shame at being spoken about in such a way.  

“Your wedding will be the day after tomorrow.” With that Joffrey excused everyone. Gianna quickly left the throne room, rushing to her chambers. Tears were dripping down her face as threw herself on her bed; her head buried in her arms. 

[the-californicationist]

Goldfish (SanSan AU) - 1/8

Sansa grabs a drink with her sister after winning her court case over the murder of Ramsay Bolton. A judge decides there is not enough evidence to claim she trained those hounds to eat him alive. At the bar, Sansa runs into the only hound she couldn’t tame: Sandor Clegane.

Warnings: descriptions of abuse, canon-mentioned abuse and domestic violence, mention of ramsay bolton, modern au, oral and vaginal sex

Sansa’s lawyer sat stoically beside her as Judge Ryker read out the verdict. In the case of first degree murder of Mr. Ramsay Bolton, Sansa Stark was not guilty. In the case of his manslaughter, she was also not guilty. The jury claimed that there was no evidence which showed that Ms. Stark exhibited prior control over the hounds of Winterfell manor, nor could they find any substantial evidence that she would be able to restrain a man as strong as Mr. Bolton without evidence of a struggle. His death was an accident.

A loud strike of the gavel made Sansa jump slightly in her stiff seat. Case closed.

“You’re free to go, Ms. Stark. May the Gods be merciful to you on your journey home,” her lawyer shook her hand and left her there, staring down at the dark, wooden table.

The eldest remaining Stark stayed seated for some time. Her pale hands lay clasped together as if still cuffed, unmoving. She breathed in deeply, but it was ragged at the end. As she tried to reach for that full gasp of oxygen, Sansa was halted by a small sob. She shuddered, not crying, yet still in some sort of ugly pain. A sick feeling ravaged her from her chest and into her throat. She breathed in again, pressing her feet so hard down into the bottoms of her patent leather pumps that her toes began to burn with pain. She wished, fleetingly, that her feet would kindle, and that she could catch fire, searing herself in the flames and consuming this goddamn wooden table for fuel, choking on her own soot and smoke. Suffocating in her own blaze. So much of her had already been licked away by others’ embers; maybe there was no tinder left to ignite? Just ash.

Everyone in the courtroom had almost filed out. A small hand caught her arm, shaking her from her internal inferno.

“Sans,” Arya said, “Let’s go. I parked out back.”

Sansa followed her sister dutifully. Arya was dressed up, if it could be called that. She wore black from head to toe; leather boots, men’s cargo trousers, a knit tunic, and a long, woolen pea coat. The younger Stark girl did not own makeup, nor would she wear any, and her hair was shorn into a buzz cut. Her skin was tanned, but clear, and her hands were shoved deep into her pockets, defensively. Sansa hadn’t seen her in more than four months, but she was glad she was with her now. She had even been kind enough to let her stay at her place while Sansa went through the last part of the trial.

Sansa climbed into the passenger side of Arya’s sporty little Mazda. Her sister eyed her, hesitantly, from the driver’s seat, round aviators sliding down her nose as she checked the parking garage for signage.

“So, where to?” Arya asked, genuinely unsure if Sansa would know.

Sansa sighed,

“I need a drink.”

Arya smiled,

“I know just the place.”

They had driven all the way to the northernmost point of the city; most people didn’t even consider it to still be London. Arya’s place that she knew so well was called The Wildling, and it was a true dive. Sansa didn’t care. As long as someone gave her a neat scotch and a chair, she would deal with whatever nonsense followed with it.

The bar was large, masculine, and smoky. It was filled with darts and pool, and it wasn’t the sort of spot to host hen parties. The walls were concrete block, painted back, and the floor was whatever material existed between dirt and tile. Sansa’s heels made a crispy noise as her soles walked over the stickiness of the floor. Heavy metal rattled through the building. Sansa expected to be overwhelmed by the sensory overload, but she didn’t really feel anything at all anymore. Ramsay had made sure of that.

The barkeep waved at Arya and came over to serve her. Arya turned to her sister,

“You want the usual?”

Sansa nodded. Arya knew what she drank these days. It was always hard liquor, and it was nearly impossible for her to order anything but scotch. Ramsay had been a gin drinker, Tyrion had been a wino, and Joffrey had preferred vodka, of course. Sansa hated the bloating that came with beer, so whisky it was.

Drink secured, Sansa sat down at a small table facing a window. She watched Arya for a moment to see if she would join her, but she had gotten stuck into a conversation with the bar staff. Sansa turned back to staring into the blackness of the night, admiring the wet gleam of the cobblestones in the street outside, and wishing she had made different choices.

Suddenly, the roar of a motorbike ripped her from her thoughts. It sped toward the bar, only to pull into a space right in front of Sansa’s viewpoint. Its rider, a staggeringly large man, killed the engine and stepped down from the dark machine, ruthlessly kicking the peg into place. He was dressed in black leather pants that strained against his muscular legs. His broad back was covered in a matching moto jacket, no patches. His helmet hid his entire face with a black visor, and the only identifying symbol was a small, silver dog painted on the side near where his jaw would lie, its mouth wide and snarling. As an icy cold realization ran down her spine, Sansa stared out the window and gazed up at a form she had not seen for a long time. It was the Hound.

[99flare99]

"Hate is good as any to keep a person going, better then most."

-Sandor Clegane

The first Game of Thrones character post is about one of my favorite characters in the entire series. Sandor Clegane, the Hound.

At first i didn't think it would be that important to the story but in the end it was. His tormented and pain-filled past made me fall in love with this character. The hatred for his brother Gregor who gave him that scar on his face disfiguring him, kept him alive so he could take revenge.

I LOVED the relationship he had with the Stark sisters. He always tried to help them. This shows that he is not a bad person in the end!🥺

I think he's a very underrated character!!

I really like his way of expressing himself because sometimes he's very funny😂 and in my opinion Rory McCann was very good at playing him💕

But am I the only one who thinks he's extremely CUTE?!? He's an adorable tsundere ahah I love it 🐶❤️

[queen-helaenas-pet-spider]

Things Rhaena I Targaryen and Sansa Stark have in common:

1. Members of the Eldest Daughters Club.

2. Are/Were Queens {Rhaena was Aegon "The Uncrowned" Targaryen's Queen Consort, and then one of Maegor I "The Cruel" Targaryen's six Queen Consorts, and Show Sansa is the first Queen In The North}

3. Wanted their brothers {Jaehaerys I Targaryen and Show Jon Snow/Show Aegon Targaryen} to be King of Westeros.

4. Their little brothers {Jaehaerys I Targaryen and Show Brandon Stark} became King Of Westeros.

5. Their "best friends" left them {Elissa Farman and Sandor Clegane *Rhaena never saw Elissa again, but Show Sansa reunited with Show Sandor, and Book Sansa might reunite with Book Sandor*}

6. Fed their final husbands {Androw Farman and Show Ramsay Bolton} to animals {Rhaena had Androw's dead body cut into pieces and fed them her dragon, Dreamfyre, and Show Sansa fed Show Ramsay to his own dogs}.

7. Hardened by trauma.

~

THIS PART IS JUST A HEADCANON!!!! PLEASE DON'T TAKE IT SERIOUSLY!!!!

I personally believe that if they had been alive at the same time, Rhaena would ADORE Sansa, and will fight Sandor to the death for the title of Sansa Stark's Number One Fan!!!!!

I'd also love to see Rhaena put the fear of Gods in Sandor like she did with her stepfather, Rogar Baratheon!!!!! 😂😂

~

AND BEFORE SANSA ANTIS START JUMPING DOWN MY THROAT ABOUT SHOW SANSA TRYING TO USURP SHOW DAENERYS AND PUT SHOW JON/AEGON ON THE THRONE, RHAENA AND HER AEGON TRIED TO USURP THEIR USURPER UNCLE, MAEGOR!!!! 🙄🙄💀💀

[allovesthings]

I've been thinking about of the double standard in this fandom and it's so aggravating sometimes.

This post started because I was thinking Rhaenyra and house of the dragon (the tv show) so I'll talk about her and that show first, with the videos calling her "the mad queen" for *checking note* turning around and looking mad at the camera because her son is dead while we never hear the same thing when Aemond ask his nephew to give his own eye out and then chase him with a gigantic dragon through a storm. Or Crispin bashing the head of someone at a Banquet because he was mad...

I feel like the most obvious one is Dany but this is a problem of GOT portraying Dany as "the mad queen" and the fandom applying it to the books when someone else very obviously have parallels and foreshadowing for it and it's not Dany (hint: it's start with a C and end with Ersei) and it really bother me especially considering people like Tywin Lannister who sacked King's Landing, ordered the murder of children, plotted the red wedding, destroyed two entire houses or the Boltons who were also part of the red wedding AND are known to flay people alive or even the Freys (who while not liked by the fandom are not called mad either) also part of the red wedding as a response to an offence that was repaid with the wedding of Edmure or the Mountain who has done more horrific things than anyone else and they are also never being called "mad" for that.

And then we get to Arya being too far gone and leaving on a boat out of society because she is being trained as an assassin (as if her part of her storyline was not about her finding a place in society as a gender-non conforming girl and not being able to lose her identity as Arya Stark through everything ), when there are men like Jaime or Sandor Clegane (or even Theon) who have killed children (or tried to for Jaime) and lost theirs identity to some extent and still seen as sympathetic and there no doubts in the fandom's mind that they are not too far gone and have a chance to come back from the horrors they"ve done.

Which leads me to Catelyn and Lady Stoneheart. While I do agree that she might be different as Lady Stoneheart (being killed in an horrifying manner after watching her oldest dies also in a horrifying way would do that to you), this is not really criticism and more of an open-ended thing that's been going through my mind. If we compare the theories on Lady Stoneheart and Jon post resurrection, both of them being more vengeful seems to be the main theory but only Cat is getting killed again by Arya because "she is too far gone in her vengeance". Part of it is actual foreshadowing that could be there (not sure if I believe it but I think the hints could point to it) but part of it feels like it's not.

[first-edition]

Fox and the Hound

Sum-Joffrey wants to send a message to your family after your brother embarrasses him, so he marries you off to his most unwanted man in his court, the hound. But will this marriage truly be a statement for an eyesore, or will it grow into something more. 

Cw for chapter- 18+ words and themes overall, cussing, mention of death, mention of sandors death, happy angst, reuniting lovers. Lmk if i forgot anything.

READ PREVIOUS CHAPTER HERE

CHAPTER 24

“Fuck me its cold.” Gendryl huffs as he pulls the blanket closer to his body. 

“Is that all youre going to do this fucking trip?” hound asks, pushing his shoulder almost causing the blacksmith to trip up. 

“Do what?” Gendryl asks, turning a bit to look up at the larger man. 

“Winge. You've been doing it this entire time. It's worse than the thoros singing. Talking about a woman who strapped you down, stripped you naked, some fucking red witch-” 

“She was gonna kill me, could-would have If it was for davos who-”

“But she didn't, hmm. Did she? So what are you whining about?” Sandor cuts him off, tired of his bullshit. 

“I'm not Whining.” Gendryl barks back. 

Sandor chuckles. “Your lips are moving and you're complaining about something…this cunt has been killed six times you don't hear him bitching about it huh?” Sandor says pushing Gendryl to the side and continuing off infront of him. 

“Sandor.” Jon says, turning to him, calling him up. Beric follows, wanting to hear the plan Jon might have. 

“I wanted to congratulate you on your fatherhood.” he says. 

“What?” Sandor asks, confused for a second. 

“Her grace, y/n clegane. She bore you a son. They call him the little prince. I was there. He's healthy. Takes after you.'' John nods. 

“Oh. hmm. I'm planning to deter all other nonsense after this shit to sail to Volantis finally.'' Sandor huffs out fixing the pack around his shoulders. 

John stops walking to look at him. 

“Volantis? There was a plague that swept over it, heathers plague, from the heather plant being tainted. Her grace isn't in volantis, she's in winterfell with sansa. Her parents sent her there because the plague does not touch the cold. She thinks you're dead though.” John explains. 

Sandors breath hitches for a moment before glancing at beric who nods with a smile knowing that the ‘lord of light’ has willed him to be here. 

“Dont smile at me like that you fucking necromancer.” sandor says. 

“You have a son clegane, the little prince, be thankful. When this is all over you can head there to reunite.” beric continues. 

“Why does she think I'm dead?” Sandor asks as they continue the walk. 

“Brienne of Tarth is also within the walls of winterfell when y/n arrived brienne told her, she pushed you and you fell.” John says. 

“The big woman?” Tormound asks, his eyes wide with wonder. 

“Y-yes.. John answers uncomfortably.

“I will make sure you join us when we arrive back there. You've got a son to meet.” Jon says. 

“You've got to stay alive now that is eh? Don't want your pretty missus to keep thinking you're dead now then." Tormund says, putting his hand on sandors shoulder. As fast as it was placed sandor smacks it off him. 

“Fuck off.” he huffs. 

“You're the dog, they told you were mean. Were you born that way or were you hardened?” Tormund asks him, smiling a bit. 

Sandor slowly turns to the other man scowling at him as if he can't understand a word he's saying. 

“What is wrong with you? Genuinely.” Sandor asks, huffing out a puff of air that can be seen because of the frigid temperature. 

“Nothing. You see I don't think you’re actually mean. I’ve seen the princess and the fact that she fell for a brute look of you well..ptff. Youve got sad eyes i think she takes care of you, takes care of you well, enough to put a babe inside her, i think that under all your anger and hate your a soft man, you either love her completely….of she just fucks you so good you cant leav-” tormund is cut short with a punch to face before he lands in the snow.

“I told you to shut the fuck up and i wont do it again. Talk about her like that once more and i’ll snap your ginger fucking neck!” Sandor barks out. 

“OI! Enough of that?! And keep moving!” Jon hollars out as the rest of the group is a bit of a ways ahead. 

—-----

You watch as the supply carts are unloaded, your men and the others pulling out and setting down crate after crate. The whine of a horse before two women in red cloaks ride into the gates. 

“Who's that?” you ask joss as he stands next to you. He shakes his head. They two are helped off their horses before looking around briefly and taking off their hoods. 

“Your grace. The red woman, Lady melisandre and her daughter Yin have arrived.” you turn to face lord baelish. 

“And who are they?” Sansa asks as she walks up behind you. 

“Sorcerers my lady, they are here to help decide the plan against the dead.” baelish answers. Sansa looks unamused as she looks at them. 

They look up to you before heading your way up the stairs onto the balcony platform where you stand. You turn your gaze over to where one of the guards are leading them twords you before they make their final destination. 

“My lady, your grace.” the one with brown hair says as they both curtsy. 

“Who sent it to you?” Sansa asks, frowning. 

“Your brother, the lord snow. I am Melisandre High priestess of the red women, and this is my daughter, Yin '' she speaks again. Introducing herself and your child yet they both look virtually the same age. 

“Why are you here?” you ask. 

“Lord Snow sent for us to assist in the fight of the dead.” Yin speaks. You notice that she, unlike her mother, has blonde hair and a fair complexion. Beautiful nonetheless and most likely powerful if her mother is the high priestess. 

“I brought you brother back to life after the members of castle black retaliated and took his life from him leaving him in the snow to die.” Melisandre says. 

“That was you?” Sansa says she nods. 

“My daughter healed the rest of his wounds. No fear can be fulfilled without scars but he is alive and walking.” the red woman replies. 

Sansa nods, taking a moment before speaking again. 

“I will have sleeping quarters set up for you then. Jon is not here, he is on the wall but he should be back within the week." Sansa replies looking to measter aaron before turning back to melisandre nods thankful for the hospitality as sudden as it may have been. 

“Your grace.” lucy speaks as she walks up to you your son in her arms. He immediately reaches out to you wanting you. 

A smile is plastered on your face as you bring him into your arms holding him close. Sansa immediately holds out her hand and joss take her finger in his hand wrapping his first around it babbling. 

“The little prince.” yin speaks. You look at her, focusing on her words. 

“He will make a great king when the illness has subsided and you are to return home.” she says. You nod to her. 

“Y-yes but i will not force him to his kingly role if he does not wish it.” you say. 

“Of course not.” yin speaks once more.

“My ladies, your rooms are prepped and ready.” mester aaron says prompting them to follow him. 

“My lady, your grace.” melisandre and yin both curtsy before following the mester away to their rooms to settle for the day. Sansa gives you a look of slight worry before a distant roar is heard. Everyone stops and looks around before a gust of wind and snow is blown up. 

Both you and sansa hurry to the edge and look up seeing not one but two dragons. Flying over head. Huge beautiful creatures. 

“Jon must be back!” sansa exclaims looking to you. 

“I guess she really in the dragon queen.” you giggle she smiles back to you. 

—-----

You watch as all the soldiers and other enter winter fell being greeted before the dragon ‘queen’ herself enters and is helped off the horse back. Sansa reluctantly says hello as they get to know each other. You watch from above as jon looks up you. He gives you a smile and you reply back with a saddened one. 

The distant grumble of the dragons that rest outside of winterfell behind you take your attention. You admire them before taking your leave from the balcony and walking down the stairs walking up to jon and the others. 

“Daenerys. This he Her Grace queen y/n clegane of house vixen.” jon says you smile at the other women her age the same as yours. 

“Your grace.” You say curtsying to her as she does to you. 

“Its relief and pleasure to meet another queen and one of rightful status.” she speaks to you. 

You nod before answering. 

“I hope you can find comfort and warmth here its the middle of winter so i hope the cold isnt too much for you.” you speak. She smiles and shakes her head. 

“The cold is refreshing.” she says happily. 

“y/n..i have someone for you.” jon says you frown wondering why he got you a present. 

“Youve got her a present?” sansa asks a bit jealous. Jon just chuckles and shakes his head at his sister jealousy. 

“Your grace.” you say curtsying to her as she once more does the same. You notice that jon give her a quick peck on the cheek before walking leading you to your supposed gift. 

“Are you together?” you ask him a slight bit of distan on your words. 

“Yes briefly, she saved us beyond the wall and sacrificed one of her children for us.” he says. Thats right jon had sent a letter saying that she had three and there was only two in the back courtyard.

“She had three.” you say as you both walk twords the gardens. He nods. 

“The night king took one down and i'm hoping that the others stay put. She loves them, they are her children.” he says. You see others bringing in supplies for making weapons to defeat the army of the dead. 

“What is my gift youre being so ominus about it.” you say changing the subject. 

“Not what. Who.” he says you frown in confusion as you both stop walking. More people gather into the courtyard chatting and unloading supplies but one person in particular comes into view and your breath stops and your heart falters. 

You glance back at jon in disbelief. Your husband dismounts the large horse as he rides giving the reins to someone before taking a brief look around only to spot you. He stops dead in his tracks, eyes not not wavering from your face as he makes much haste twords you. 

​​“Sandor?” You speak with tears welling up in your eyes.

Its really him. He lets out a pained breath before his body meets yours, lifting you in his arms hooding you closer than ever, not wanting to leave you alone ever again, not wanting to let you go. Setting you down you share a deep kiss a much needed passion you’ve both missed. 

He’s missed the relaxation your touch brings him. All those nights dreaming of you in his arms, all those day thought of his pure hope to get back to you. The pain of his loneliness melts away as soon as it hits. Despite his rough exterior tear manage to slip past wetting his cheeks as his grip against you tightens, silently praying that you are real and this is real that he’s really back into your arms.

“I never stopped trying to get back to you.” He says his eyes searching your face he pulls off his gloves his hands taking place on either side of your face feeling the soft skin of your cheeks. 

“Brienne told me she killed you.” You says sobbing as you clutch onto him.

“That big bitch, shes here?” He scoffs you nod a smile crossing your face missing his gruffness.

“I thought you were dead?” Your voice breaks. Settling his hard gaze to soften against you.

“No.” He says pulling you closer that you already are to him as you continue to cry. 

“No..no i'm right here. I promise.” he says. you place your hand on his cheek he leans into your touch.

Next Chapter coming soon

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[seoness]

More Than Our Servitude - Part IV

NSFW | Fluff | (TV) Sandor Clegane x Fem!Reader | Multi-part | Requested

Trigger warning: Bartering sex with a non-romantic interest.

Summary: The greatest defender is not always the strongest and sometimes all it takes for fate to be rewritten is the presence of another.

Author's note: While this part does not have smut, please remember that other parts do. We are deviating from the TV show, weaving it together with the books. So if you're thinking, "Hold on, did it happen like this?" Nah. But it's whatcha ma call it? Creative liberty! This fic is written to be compatible with the browser add-on InteractiveFics. Please use it or a similar browser add-on/extension for the greatest amount of immersion.

Test: y/n and y/n.(if that is your chosen name, it means it's working).

The imprint of hooves was barely visible in the mud. Your heart hadn't stopped hammering and the heat that pressed at your face wouldn't go.

This wasn't what he needed.

"Shit."

You rubbed away the tears only for them to return, clouding your view. Why fool yourself?

You weren't what he needed.

Even if you caught up with them, what could you even do? That thought, that hopelessness, was nothing to the cold that came whenever the vision snuck up. A body, mangled by cuts and half-a-hundred blows, the blood swallowed up by the mud. The dark eyes turned pale as milk.

If that is what met you... No, Sandor was strong, too stubborn for death. You pulled the cloak snug, but the embrace of damp wool offered little comfort. He couldn't die. He couldn't!

"Shit, shit, shit!"

The birch trees gave way to a sea of ferns, the narrow path the party had kept on joined up with a brook, slithering its way through moss and stone alike, the mud littered with tracks — Stranger had lost his temper.

At least the hellhorse hadn't paid with his life. Peering out on the path ahead, the setting sun made each tree cast long shadows that danced with the wind, and somewhere out there, a howl rang. Beyond the leaves, plumes of smoke rose up to meet the sky. Had they taken up camp?

Hope flickered. You could sneak, and wait for dark if time allowed. There was hope. You took a step forward when the sound came. A branch broke. The world went black. A heaviness slammed against your back, forcing you to hunch forward. Arms, you felt them now, the balled-up fist that had dragged the sack on your head. You screamed. Nails catching flesh, cloth, anything as you tore.

"Quit you struggling," a stranger's voice cursed, but it only made the nails drive deeper.

The stranger shook, hard, roaring, "I said quit it!"

Another voice came, brighter, "You're not calming her."

"You want to try? No? Then shut your mouth."

Your feet hit against something soft and the bright voice groaned out, making laughter bellow behind you, "A true calming presence. Try again, won't ya?."

"Sod off. Just carry her to the others, will you?"

Your scream cut short as the world moved once more and a shoulder hit your stomach. Arms clenching around your legs.

"Why are you doing this, there's nothing for you to steal?!"

The plead made the stranger beneath you laugh again, "Aye, a true innocent maiden you is sniffing about our trail."

The blows at his back bounced back against the boiled leather. "She's kinder to me, how'd she know I had a sore back."

When the body beneath you finally stopped moving, your fists were throbbing with pain.

"Caught this dove spying." The next, your feet hit the ground, the sack yanked off your head and all you could do was try not to fall over.

Another spoke, a thick accent on his tongue, "You know this one, Dog?"

And there the Hound was, surrounded by men and women alike, but the hatred in their faces was nothing to what burned in his. Stripped to nothing more than his breeches and undertunic, bound with rope, the men closest to Sandor still never let their eyes off him. There was danger in him yet.

And above all, he was alive. You weren't too late.

The Hound looked at you like they had dragged the village dimwit before him, turning to the man closest. He was nothing more than bones draped in a red robe matted by layer upon layer of dust.

"Never seen her."

But the man in the red robe, you had seen him before. Yes, at the Red Keep. A friend of Robert Baratheon. Thoros of Myr. A cursed name amongst the washerwomen of the Red Keep, none made more wine stains than the drunkard that paraded himself a Red Priest.

Your captor shook you again.

"Tell 'em your name." What good would that do? Pressing your lips shut, you looked up at the one who had swung you about like some rag doll.

Gods, he made the paupers of Flea Bottom look like nobility. A few strands of blond hair had avoided the mat that clumped around his head. Your stomach turned as he lowered, sniffing your hair, while your nose filled with the stench of urine and sweat. "Smells nice. The lions sending their ladies out to spy for 'em now?"

"You know that one, alright," Thoros chuckled, patting Sandor's shoulder. "Careful, Otho, I think the Hound wants you dead."

Sandor's eyes were black with rage and three more men knocked their bows. This wasn't an army. Bandits? Yet in the mass, there were women and children. The surroundings... this was a village. Farms, shops, and a tavern. You had been carried to a village square. At your right, chains creaked and a whimper left your lips. Crowcages. Already occupied. Each prisoner's chest was feathered with an arrow.

But before fear could take hold, Thoros of Myr spoke again, "We have stayed too long. Take the woman."

And the sack returned over your head.

The smell of smoke and wet hay clung to the roughspun sack. At times the darkness it kept was broken, torches passing, voices muddled. A swarm of hands caught you as Otho threw you off his shoulder, the floor hard and slippery beneath your feet. A yelp left your lips, and in an instant, the hands were gone.

"Otho, take off the sack." It was a stranger's voice, whispering out in the dark.

But the body beside you, that had carried you on his shoulder for what felt like an eternity, did not move. "Pardon his rudeness," the voice said.

The world outside wasn't much brighter but a long face with kind eyes met you.

"Anguy," the stranger said.

Otho huffed, "Don't bother. We're not good enough for the lady's name."

You stopped listening to their bickering, looking past Anguy's shoulder. The fire crackled within the large brazier, and flames soared high as the men fed it with timber, its light reaching the roof of dirt, roots, and rock. A cavern? The brazier burned bright enough for you to make out the faces around you. More men, more hate in their eyes, but none was for you.

The Hound had been dragged into the middle of it all. Thoros of Myr pulled the sack off his head to the hooting and curses of the crowd.

Strands of Sandor's hair had slicked to his forehead with sweat, and there was a wildness to his eyes you'd never seen before and an edge to his voice, "You look like a bunch of swine herds."

"Some of us were swine herds, and some was tanners and masons," Anguy answered him. "That was before."

The Hound let out a snort, "You are still swine herds and tanners and masons. You think carrying a crooked spear makes you a soldier?"

Shut up! Mocking them wouldn't make them merciful. Why did he need to be so stubborn? But you knew... Sandor Clegane would never plead for his life.

"Fighting in a war makes you a soldier," a voice from the crowd answered.

The bodies around you moved, but Anguy's body kept you from getting a clear view of the man that stepped forth from the crowd.

"Beric Dondarrion, you've seen better days."

"And I won't see them again." The voice that answered him, something with that man made the amusement in the Hound's face falter.

Sandor didn't stay on him, looking back out over the crowd. "Stark deserters... Baratheon deserters... you're not fighting in a war, you're running from it."

"Last I heard, you were King Joffrey's guard, but here you are a thousand miles from home. Which of us are running?" Beric countered.

"Untie these ropes, and we'll find out," Sandor answered, his mouth twisting. "What are you doing? Leading a mob of peasants?"

"Ned Stark ordered me to execute your brother in King Robert's name."

"Ned Stark is dead, King Robert is dead, my brother is alive." Sandor spat at the ground. "You are fighting for ghosts."

"That's what we are. Ghosts," Beric's voice grew tense. "Waiting for you in the dark, you can't see us, but we see you. No matter whose cloak you were. Lannister, Stark, Baratheon? You pray on the weak the Brotherhood without Banners will hunt you down."

All around you, eyes lit up like cats reading to pounce. You opened your mouth to speak, to call out to Sandor, but your throat had dried up to nothing.

The Hound looked even less impressed after the lord's speech. "You found the gods, is that it?"

Shut up.

"Aye, I've been reborn in the light of the one true god, as have we all. As would any man that have seen what we've seen," Beric answered him.

Disgust spread on the Hound's face. "If you mean to murder me bloody well get on with it."

No.

"You'll die soon enough, Dog, but it won't be murder only justice."

"N-!" Your scream was muffled against Otho's hand.

But the sound was enough for their attention to turn to you, Sandor's mouth pressing to a thin line. "This one was found sniffing our trail. It seems the Hound has found himself a woman," Otho said.

Laughter spread throughout the cave while Thoros of Myr stepped closer to you. It was pointless to fight against the Red Priest as he took hold of your hands. Otho's grip was like a vice.

Thoros didn't need to study your hands for long before his face softened. "You're no lady, are you? These are a worker's hands," he said. "No need to be wounded, sweetling. They are far softer than mine ever will be."

The Hound tugged at the binds that held him. "Just a whore. Found her some leagues past, not paid her yet."

"A Lannister always pays their debt," Thoros muttered to himself.

"He's not a Lannister," you said.

What rested in the Red Priest's eyes was no secret. Who he thought you to be. A fool. Pitiful. Pat you on the head and be kind to you for a day, and you'll never mention the Hound again. It was they that were no different from the Lannisters. Who did as they pleased, who thought themself better.

Anguy raised his voice, "Lions you call yourselves. At the Mummer's Ford, girls of seven years were raped, and babes still on the breast were cut in two while their mothers watched."

"I wasn't at the Mummer's Ford. Dump your dead children at some other door," Sandor growled back, his patience long since withered away.

Thoros released your hand and faced the Hound once more. "House Clegane was built upon dead children. I saw them lay Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys before the Iron Throne."

"Do you take me for my brother? Is being born Clegane a crime?"

"Murder is a crime," Beric answered.

"I never touched the Targaryen babes. I never saw them, never smelled them, never heard them bawling. You want to cut my throat, get on with it! But don't call me murderer and pretend that you're not."

Finally. A solid argument. They couldn't deny it. You could see it on their faces. The Mother Above had smiled down on you both, captured by the only righteous group of bandits in the Seven Kingdoms.

A child's voice rose above the murmur of men. "You murdered Mycah. The butcher's boy. My friend. He was twelve years old. He was unarmed. And you rode him down. You slung him over your horse like he was some deer."

"Aye, he was a bleeder."

"You don't deny killing this boy?" Beric asked.

"I was Joffrey's sworn shield. The boy attacked the prince."

A girl stepped forward, dressed in boy's clothes and her hair cut short. "That's a lie! I hit Joffrey. Mycah just ran away."

Sandor let out a snort, "Then I should have killed you. Not my place to question princes."

More hoots and curses filled the cave. That... that was his defense? No, he'd die. Mycah? He was no servant you knew, but he attacked the prince. That rang a bell... Starks. When the court left the Red Keep for Winterfell.

Your hand slipped back, in between your body and that of Otho's.

"You stand accused of murder. But no one here knows the truth of the charge, so it is not for us to judge you. Only the Lord of Light—"

The pained howl silenced the Lord. The grip on your arm became iron, and in turn, your grip on Otho's manhood grew just as strong.

"YOU RABID BITCH!"

You would have hit the ground face first if not for Thoros catching you, and a wave of men came at your back, grabbing their brother. You couldn't focus on the set of hands that clawed after you, ready to turn you into pulp. Pushing away from the Red Priest, you caught the eye of Lord Beric Dondarrion.

"By what right do you act judge on that boy's death?" you asked, loud enough for your voice to be heard above that of Otho's curses. "Do you see yourself as greater than your King, Lord Beric?"

But it wasn't he who opened his mouth to speak. The Hound did. "Not a word!" you roared out.

Sandor had tried to defend himself and failed. He couldn't die. You wouldn't let him, and by the gods, he wasn't helping. If he wanted to punish you, he could very well do it when he was alive and well.

Looking back to Beric Dondarrion, you continued, "The death occurred when the King returned to King's Landing from Winterfell, did it not? Then King Robert would have known of the boy's death and did not charge Sandor Clegane as a murderer, so by what right do any of you?"

You tried not to tremble, to not feel the gazes of at least fifty men burning your back.

"The lion's fury is a fierce one," Beric said, "and much happens within a camp."

"So you say King Robert was a craven to his wife? The Hand of the King must have known, and there was no charge made then," you countered. "The will of our King might not please you, but it is not for any of us to question."

The girl's voice brimmed with anger, "He murdered Mycah! He's a murderer!"

Thoros stepped closer to Beric, whispering, but the lord shook his head. "There is little reason to be rash, Thoros. The Hound is our captive. If justice commands us to end his life, so be it, but it shall be justice, not murder."

And the lord's gaze fell on you. "Come, there are questions that I seek answers for."

The cave ran deep. Beric guided you through the crowd and over the sleeping mats and past crates. Arming himself with a torch before the cavern walls started to close in, not stopping until a dead end forced it.

The lord held out his hand. "May I?" And you did not dare do anything else, placing your hand in his palm. "Thoros spoke true, but you speak like one born a lady."

Maybe a lie? Claim yourself some lady and threaten with bloody vengeance if they dared harm Sandor. But what good would that do? They were outlaws. That threat already hung over their heads.

"I served as a washerwoman at the Red Keep... servants that walk the halls are supposed to speak properly."

"Your name?"

"y/n."

y/n of nothing. No lady. No house. No power. You had lived a long enough life to know the truth of the world. Lords seldom listened, not to your kind. How many of your friends had not groveled to Ser Ilyn Payne? It made no difference. But there was one thing that was different this time, this wasn't your life.

Pain shot from your knees as they hit the floor, and your forehead met the cool stone. "Please," your voice thick," please, don't kill him."

It was a lord's voice that answered. Steady. Calm. Unyielding. "The man killed a child and admitted to the act, yet you defend him."

"He admitted to killing the boy. It was his duty..." you leaned back and met the lord's gaze. "Not all have the fortune of serving those that are good of heart. I know him, the man you and your men insist on calling a dog, and he is not the evil you think."

Your throat grew snug. "He killed a boy that was accused of attacking the prince. Why do your men, why do you, my lord, act like anything else is needed? Servants do not get trials. A charge, the word of a Queen, of a Prince is more than enough."

"And you defend such a world? The Brotherhood without Banners does not turn a blind eye to cruelty."

Without thought, your hand shot out, gripping his leg. "Then kill the one who ordered such cruelty. Do not pretend to make an example of him when his death would be the exception."

Some lords would have kicked you in the face for daring to touch them but Beric just shook his head.

"To think the Hound of all men would have a woman pleading for his life." His gaze wandered to the scar by your throat. "And that?"

"Bandits attacked us. Sandor could have abandoned me there, but he risked his life to save me. No one ordered him to. Left to his own, he does good. He is good. I'll swear it before any and all gods, both the Old and the New. To your Red God. Please, my lord."

You searched his face. The right eye had been claimed and covered by a patch, the cheeks gaunt. Clothes torn and patched, but the man stood tall, regal in his rags. The Stranger made flesh. The still face of a lord grew warm, and the man beneath peaked through.

"I do not mean to stare. It has been too long since I have had the company of a woman." He barely finished speaking before the man's eye became as wide as yours. "Forgive me, do not take that as... it has been a long time since I've spoken to someone who wasn't out for blood, be it mine or that of other men."

Looking down at his boots, your heartbeat grew. The implication remained. Men had given much for such comfort, especially those starved. "But if I... will you spare him if I allow it?"

Silence hung heavy over your shoulders. Was he too proper to openly accept? His boot, his left, had a deep scuff on its toe. You couldn't look away from it. Listening to the blood flowing in your ears. Now, if anything, you expected to tremble as you reached for the lacing of your dress, but your hands were steady and nimble. The scuff of his boot disappeared from view.

"I am not my enemy," the lord's voice returned as Beric caught you by the wrists. "It would be a lie to say that I have never paid for a woman's kindness, but you have no want for me, my lady "

"I want Sandor to live."

"Saving your life earned him this loyalty?"

You frowned. "I love him."

The lord looked to have preferred a slap to the face than that admittance.

"I wish to pray, and there is little love out there for one of your sentiments, so I urge you to wait here while I do."

No prayer left the man's lips. Beric only stared at the fire of his torch. After some time, the lord straightened and turned towards the tunnel. He wasn't the only one who had made up his mind.

"Anything you do to him shall be done to me." Your words stopped the man in his tracks. "If you cannot fathom sentencing me the same as him, then your judgment is wrong."

"Do not make threats you cannot uphold."

"One way or the other it will be upheld," you said.

The warmth of your breath built up inside the sack. In that darkness, a pair of steel-clad arms rested at your sides, steading you on the stallion's back. Beric's speech was a blur. Not that much could be heard above the thumping of your heart. You had stood there like a statue, watching as the armor returned on the Hound, aided by Beric Dondarrion's squire. The girl's scream, her roar, followed you along the forest path. There hadn't only been hatred for the Hound in those eyes. One got used to being looked upon like vermin when serving in the halls of the Red Keep, but that wasn't the hatred in that girl's eyes. To her, you were pure evil.

"This should be far enough," the voice stirred you from thought.

The Hound moved, and you heard the swat of cloth and fumbling steps before he lifted the sack of your head and flung it to the one they called Greenbeard.

The outlaw unhooked Sandor's sword from his belt, holding it out. "Go on your way now. Do anything foolish and Anguy will feather you dead."

By the treeline, the bowman stood, barely visible in the night, the light of his brethren's torches caught on the tip of the arrow already knocked on its string. You knew the flow of insults was building inside Sandor and tapped on his chestplate.

"We should go," you said and nodded to his sword. "Please?"

The Hound ripped it out of Greenbeard's hand, making the four men that had been tasked to escort you away from their hideout perk up. Their hands all resting at the hilt of their swords.

Lem, the tallest and strongest amongst them, stepped forward. "Go on, Dog, scurry off!"

Sandor's grip around the scabbard grew. He couldn't! Your fingers latched onto his bevor, pulling up, making Sandor turn back to you and your lips locked. His mouth tense against yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck, deepening your kiss. Caring less to nothing of the world and men that surrounded you.

Pulling away, breathless. "You have better things to do than deal with that man."

The Hound huffed a laugh before pressing his heels into Stranger, letting the stallion charge ahead.

Not until the sky glowed in hues of orange and pale purple, welcoming the morning sun, did the horse slow. He lived. Unharmed. Leaning back against his chest, you sighed. Beneath that armor was a beating heart. A smile spread across your lips. Out of danger, your body bore the toll everything had taken and made Sandor's embrace as comfortable as the softest of featherbeds.

"What did Dondarrion want from you?" the rasp pulled you back from sleep.

The Hound hated liars.

"He had questions for me. I answered them," you said.

"Some answers," he snorted.

And a truth that could make him hate you. You peered up, meeting those dark eyes. "It helped to not insult him or his men. I got lucky, I suppose."

Sandor pressed into Stranger's sides to keep the horse from stopping. It wasn't a lie. There was much you knew. You knew such a defense would not be enough, knew it would anger him, knew it would hurt him. It was what you didn't know that kept you from saying the rest. Would he ride back? Was his pride too great?

A heaviness. A weight landed on you, yet it wasn't startling. Since Lord Beric's verdict of innocence, you had awaited it but if carrying this guilt was the price of keeping him alive, so be it.

"Are you feeling well?" you asked. "I... I don't know what the right question to ask is... They wanted you dead."

"Aye, not the first."

"You sound too calm for someone just escaping being lynched by a mob," you muttered.

You had been awake too long and walked too far. With sleep and something to fill your belly, this new weight of yours would be easier to shoulder. It wasn't like Lord Beric had taken up your offer. Sandor's face lowered, the tip of his nose brushing against your forehead before his lips followed.

"Think people go out of their way helping dogs? Never had that," there was a distance to his voice before a huff made strength return, tickling your face. "Some fierce defender you make."

"Can your defender request a camp where she can bathe? I stink of Otho."

Sandor lowered further, taking a sniff of the air around you. His face twisting. Stifling a cough.

"Many thanks," you said. "That is what all women want their men to do."

"You'll have your thanks later," he answered, coughing again.

Thank you for reading!

Quick question: Is there something you, as readers, want to see in future parts/don't want to see? A trope you absolutely want me to avoid. I might not be able to take everyone's wishes into account, but it would give me a better understanding of the wants of those following the fic. All thoughts and opinions are welcomed. 🤗

[mybworlds]

Chapter 9: Kissed by fire

Pairing: The Hound x Sansa Stark

Summary: Sansa and Sandor meet the brotherhood without banners and Sansa reunites with her sister Arya.

Chapter Warnings: language, violence

Masterlist

Before to start... thank you to follow me, if you want to be tagged in the next chapters, please let me know! if you want to ask me smt, you can write down here or you can inbox me. Please remember English is not my first language. And in this chapter you can read many abstracts of the chapter thirty four of "A Storm of Swords" book; I put them in italics.

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

Her eyes had grown accustomed to blackness. When a man pulled the hood off her head, the ruddy glare inside the hollow hill made Sansa blink.

A huge firepit had been dug in the center of the earthen floor, and its flames rose swirling and crackling toward the smoke-stained ceiling. People were emerging from between those roots as she watched; edging out from the shadows for a look at the captives, stepping from the mouths of pitch-black tunnels on all sides. In one place on the far side of the fire, the roots formed a kind of stairway up to a hollow in the earth where a man sat almost lost in the tangle of weirwood.

Big as the fire was, the cave was bigger; it was hard to tell where it began and where it ended. Sansa saw men and women and little children, all of them watching her warily.

"Who are you?" Sansa asked frightened as she looked around.

"Sansa?" a voice made her turn to the left, Sansa could not believe her eyes and ears, it was her sister Arya, she was alive. Sansa stood up and went to meet her sister hugging her, Arya did not return the hug, she remained rigidly composed in her position.

Sansa dissolved the embrace "I thought-I thought you were dead!"

"But here I am!" she replied coldly, Sansa looked at all those men, women and children, who were they?

"What is this place?" a strong-looking, dark-haired young man asked sitting next to Arya.

"A place where neither wolves nor lions can disturb us." Thoros of Myr replied.

Sansa and Arya shivered even as one hid it from the other.

Sansa looked around for the Hound and saw him standing by the fire with a hood over his head and his hands bound.

“How did you take him?” the priest asked.

“The dogs caught the scent. He was sleeping off a drunk under a willow tree, if you believe it.”

“Betrayed by his own kind.” Thoros turned to the prisoner and yanked his hood off. “Welcome to our humble hall, dog. It is not so grand as Robert’s throne room, but the company is better.”

The shifting flames painted Sandor Clegane’s burned face with orange shadows, so he looked even more terrible than he did in daylight. When he pulled at the rope that bound his wrists, flakes of dry blood fell off.

The Hound’s mouth twitched. “I know you,” he said to Thoros.

“You did. In mêlées, you’d curse my flaming sword, though thrice I overthrew you with it.”

“We are brothers here,” Thoros of Myr declared. “Holy brothers, sworn to the realm, to our god, and to each other.”

“The brotherhood without banners.” someone shouted “The knights of the hollow hill.”

“Knights?” Clegane made the word a sneer. “Dondarrion’s a knight, but the rest of you are the sorriest lot of outlaws and broken men I’ve ever seen. I shit better men than you.”

“Any knight can make a knight,” said the scarecrow that was Beric Dondarrion, “and every man you see before you has felt a sword upon his shoulder. We are the forgotten fellowship.”

“Send me on my way and I’ll forget you too,” Clegane rasped. “But if you mean to murder me, then bloody well get on with it. You took my sword, my horse, and my gold, so take my life and be done with it . . . but spare me this pious bleating.”

“You will die soon enough, dog,” promised Thoros, “but it shan’t be murder, only justice.”

Sansa's eyes widened in terror at the idea that Sandor - the Hound - could be killed.

“Aye,” said the Mad Huntsman, “and a kinder fate than you deserve for all your kind have done. Lions, you call yourselves. At Sherrer and the Mummer’s Ford, girls of six and seven years were raped, and babes still on the breast were cut in two while their mothers watched. No lion ever killed so cruel.”

“I was not at Sherrer, nor the Mummer’s Ford,” the Hound told him. “Lay your dead children at some other door.”

Thoros answered him. “Do you deny that House Clegane was built upon dead children? I saw them lay Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys before the Iron Throne. By rights your arms should bear two bloody infants in place of those ugly dogs.”

The Hound’s mouth twitched. “Do you take me for my brother? Is being born Clegane a crime?”

“Murder is a crime.”

“Who did I murder?”

An endless string of names resounded along the cave walls, and Sansa looked worriedly at the Hound.

“Enough.” The Hound’s face was tight with anger. “You’re making noise. These names mean nothing. Who were they?”

“People,” said Lord Beric. “People great and small, young and old. Good people and bad people, who died on the points of Lannister spears or saw their bellies opened by Lannister swords.”

“It wasn’t my sword in their bellies. Any man who says it was is a bloody liar.”

“You serve the Lannisters of Casterly Rock,” said Thoros.

“Once. Me and thousands more. Is each of us guilty of the crimes of the others?” Clegane spat. “Might be you are knights after all. You lie like knights, maybe you murder like knights.”

Arya screamed “You are a murderer! You killed Mycah, don’t say you never did. You murdered him!”

The Hound stared at her with no flicker of recognition. “And who was this Mycah, boy?”

“I’m not a boy! But Mycah was. He was a butcher’s boy and you killed him. Jory said you cut him near in half, and he never even had a sword.”

“Who’s this now?” someone asked.

The Hound answered. “Seven hells. The little sister---" Sandor's eyes sought Sansa's, who immediately returned the gaze.

“The girl has named you a murderer. Do you deny killing this butcher’s boy, Mycah?”

The big man shrugged. “I was Joffrey’s sworn shield. The butcher’s boy attacked a prince of the blood.”

“That’s a lie! It was me. I hit Joffrey and threw Lion’s Paw in the river. Mycah just ran away, like I told him.”

“Did you see the boy attack Prince Joffrey?” Lord Beric Dondarrion asked the Hound.

“I heard it from the royal lips. It’s not my place to question princes.” Clegane jerked his hands toward Arya. “This one’s own sister told the same tale when she stood before your precious Robert.”

“Sansa’s just a liar,” Arya said, furious at her sister all over again. “It wasn’t like she said. It wasn’t.” the Stark shouted, forgetting that her sister Sansa was in the cave with them.

Thoros drew Lord Beric aside. The two men stood talking in low whispers, Dondarrion turned back to the Hound. “You stand accused of murder, but no one here knows the truth or falsehood of the charge, so it is not for us to judge you. Only the Lord of Light may do that now. I sentence you to trial by battle.”

The Hound frowned suspiciously, as if he did not trust his ears. “Are you a fool or a madman?”

“Neither. I am a just lord. Prove your innocence with a blade, and you shall be free to go.”

Sansa breathed a sigh of relief, the Hound was virtually unbeatable with the sword, everyone knew it, including her sister Arya who was furious.

“So who will it be?”

“It’s me you’ll face,” said Lord Beric Dondarrion.

Thoros brought the Hound his swordbelt.

The Hound ripped the sword free and threw away the scabbard.

The Hound made to step toward his foe, Thoros of Myr stopped him. “First we pray.” He turned toward the fire and lifted his arms. “Lord of Light, look down upon us.”

All around the cave, the brotherhood without banners lifted their own voices in response. “Lord of Light, defend us.”

“Lord of Light, protect us in the darkness.”

“Lord of Light, shine your face upon us.”

“Light your flame among us, R’hllor,” said the red priest. “Show us the truth or falseness of this man.

Strike him down if he is guilty, and give strength to his sword if he is true. Lord of Light, give us wisdom.”

“For the night is dark,” the others chanted, “and full of terrors.”

And then the sword took fire.

The Hound retreated half a step totally shocked at the sight of his flaming sword, Sansa for her part was totally astonished.

The Hound charged him, he moved fast enough.

The flaming sword leapt up to meet the cold one, long streamers of fire trailing in its wake like the ribbons the Hound had spoken of. Steel rang on steel. No sooner was his first slash blocked than

Clegane made another, but this time Lord Beric’s shield got in the way, and wood chips flew from the force of the blow. Hard and fast the cuts came, from low and high, from right and left, and each one Dondarrion blocked. Each move Lord Beric made fanned them and made them burn the brighter, until it seemed as though the lightning lord stood within a cage of fire.

Now it was Lord Beric attacking, filling the air with ropes of fire, driving the bigger man back on his heels. Clegane caught one blow high on his shield, and a painted dog lost a head. He countercut, and Dondarrion interposed his own shield and launched a fiery backslash. The outlaw brotherhood shouted on their leader. “He’s yours!” Sansa heard, and “At him! At him! At him!” The Hound parried a cut at his head, grimacing as the heat of the flames beat against his face. He grunted and cursed and reeled away.

Lord Beric gave him no respite. Hard on the big man’s heels he followed, his arm never still. The swords clashed and sprang apart and clashed again, splinters flew from the lightning shield while swirling flames kissed the dogs once, and twice, and thrice. The Hound moved to his right, but Dondarrion blocked him with a quick sidestep and drove him back the other way . . . toward the sullen red blaze of the firepit.

Three steps up and two back, a move to the left that Lord Beric blocked, two more forward and one back, clang and clang, and the big oaken shields took blow after blow after blow. Lord Beric’s flaming sword whirled and slashed. In one wild flurry, the lightning lord took back all the ground the Hound had gained, sending Clegane staggering to the very edge of the firepit once more. The Hound screamed as he felt the fire licking against the back of his thighs. He charged, swinging the heavy sword harder and harder, trying to smash the smaller man down with brute force, to break blade or shield or arm. But the flames of Dondarrion’s parries snapped at his eyes, and when the Hound jerked away from them, his foot went out from under him and he staggered to one knee.

Sansa cried out in terror.

At once Lord Beric closed, his downcut screaming through the air trailing pennons of fire. Panting from exertion, Clegane jerked his shield up over his head just in time, and the cave rang with the loudcrack of splintering oak.

Sandor Clegane had fought his way back to his feet with a reckless counterattack. Not until Lord Beric retreated a pace did the Hound seem to realize that the fire that roared so near his face was his own shield, burning. With a shout of revulsion, he hacked down savagely on the broken oak, completing its destruction. The shield shattered, one piece of it spinning away, still afire, while the other clung stubbornly to his forearm. His efforts to free himself only fanned the flames. His sleeve caught, and now his whole left arm was ablaze. “Finish him!” someone shouted “Guilty!” Arya shouted with the rest. “Guilty, guilty, kill him, guilty!”

Smooth as summer silk, Lord Beric slid close to make an end of the man before him. The Hound gave a rasping scream, raised his sword in both hands and brought it crashing down with all his strength.

The Hound’s cold steel plowed into Lord Beric’s flesh where his shoulder joined his neck and clove him clean down to the breastbone. Sandor Clegane jerked backward, still burning. He ripped the remnants of his shield off and flung them away with a curse, then rolled in the dirt to smother the fire running along his arm.

Lord Beric’s knees folded slowly, as if for prayer. The Hound’s sword was still in him as he toppled face forward.

“Please,” Sandor Clegane rasped, cradling his arm. “I’m burned. Help me. Someone. Help me.” He was crying. “Please.”

Sansa jumped up and made to grab the canteen of one of the men who were watching the fight, but Sansa was stopped by her own sister Arya "What the hell is wrong with you?" she scolded her "You know who he is, don't you? Then why are you going to him?"

"He saved my life, I owe him that," replied Sansa who made to get past her sister, but to no avail.

"He's a murderer, he doesn't deserve your sympathy," she shouted angrily.

“You go to hell, Hound,” she screamed at Sandor Clegane in helpless empty-handed rage. “You just go to hell!”

“He has,” said a voice scarce stronger than a whisper.

When Arya turned, Lord Beric Dondarrion was standing behind her, his bloody hand clutching Thoros by the shoulder.

With Arya's disgust, the Hound was freed: the outlaws had healed Sandor Clegane's burned arm, returned his sword, armor, and horse, the only thing they had taken was his gold.

Arya felt a great and very strong anger at seeing him go, while Sansa a great despair: her only, their only chance of return was fading and she was once again a prisoner along with her sister, who, however, hated her.

"You're such a fool!" railed Arya to her sister's despair.

"Stop it!" implored Sansa with shining eyes.

"Crying for that monster! A murderer! You're crazy." Sansa pulled up her nose "Stop crying, you're pathetic!" continued Arya "That one doesn't care about anything or anyone but his own filthy skin!"

"That's not true." replied Sansa between sobs "He's rough, but…he saved me, he took me with him from King's Landing, he could have abandoned me to my fate, but he didn't, how can you call someone who saves your life a monster? " then Sansa continued her tale by narrating to her sister all that she had experienced, but Arya did not flinch, in fact her features became even harsher and her lips stretched into a straight line laden with reproach toward her older sister.

"You are a fool, Sansa, as well as a liar. First you defended Joffrey and forced me to let Nymeria go, with your words you condemned Mycah to death, and now you are defending that filthy murderer. You are a disgrace to our family!" sentenced Arya with contempt.

Sansa lost control of herself and forgot her manners, she slapped her sister who vehemently attacked her by scratching and beating her, it was that guy, Gendry, who separated the two sisters, someone else looked on in curiosity at that scene.

"What's the matter with you people?" the light-eyed, dark-haired boy intervened, tearing up Arya, who had thrown herself impetuously at her sister.

"My sister is mad, that's the matter," replied Arya furiously.

Sansa breathed heavily, then curled up in a corner and began to cry.

"All she can do is cry," Arya continued, "And lie."

She hated her, she hated her sister.

"Come on, leave her alone. Calm down," Gendry said again and then dragged the little Stark away from Sansa.

Sansa brought her knees to her chest and wept silently.

She wanted him to come back to her, to find a way to keep his promise, but days passed, the Sun rose and set, and he was gone.

Maybe she really was as stupid as her sister said!

"I brought you something to eat," Gendry told her when again the moon was high in the sky.

Sansa's eyes were swollen, hurting, and she was sure she looked decidedly grotesque, but by now the elder Stark did not even pay much attention to her appearance.

"Thank you." said Sansa.

She reached for the small wooden plate from which she picked up a cooked potato and chunks of meat with her hands; she had not eaten these foods for so long that they seemed a real treat to her palate.

"Don't mind Arya." he told her "She's angry, she's seen … so many bad things she'll never forget."

Sansa nodded "I know, I know how she feels. But she can't stand me. She didn't before… she won't now that I've taken the side of the Hound she despises with all her might. Arya and I will never love each other, even trying. We are so young and yet we have so much resentment already toward each other."

Gendry laid a hand on hers gently taking on a sorry expression "I hope you will understand each other and be able to talk peacefully sooner or later." he said to her before walking away from her and leaving her alone.

Sansa remained alone for the next few days, she struggled to sleep and eat, but by now she was getting used to even not eating or sleeping anymore, on the sixth day-when she got up again-every muscle ached, she had to maintain herself. She found in a corner not far from her Arya staring into the fire, she had an angry expression, when she approached her, her little sister looked venomously into her face "Gendry is gone too! Your prayers have been answered. I am alone too. The difference between us is I have lost a friend, you -- a lousy murderer!"

"Where did he go?" asked Sansa.

"The Brotherhood has… sold him." replied Arya, angrily throwing a handful of dust into the fire.

"Why?"

Arya did not answer, "We cannot trust them. They might do the same to us in exchange for a few gold coins! We have to…" Arya looked around before adding "…flee." Sansa looked at her for a long time, "Are you capable of doing that? Or are you going to cry and ask for help?" bounced Arya at her.

Sansa just looked at her sister, there was nothing she could do she had not forgiven her for losing her direwolf, not forgiven her for supporting Joffrey, not forgiven her for being there and doing nothing to prevent her father's death, not forgiven her for supporting the Hound.

Night came and along with it many men went to sleep, but neither Sansa nor Arya slept. They were awake and ready to flee. Arya had a strange light in her eyes, thought Sansa who instead merely stared at the exit in the hope of seeing Sandor Clegane enter it, take the two Starks and flee, but that did not happen. The Hound must have been many leagues away by now!

"Lannister guards a hundred feet from us!" someone shouted, that was the signal the two sisters had been waiting for, the two in the general confusion managed to easily get past the two knights placed to guard the cave. Sansa and Arya fled at breakneck speed into the dark woods, Sansa trudged on, but did not stop. She was suddenly grabbed as she ran, the one who tugged her was strong and had armor that stood out clearly in the moonlight, she kicked and flailed, but when she heard his voice she stopped, "By the Seventh Hells, stop!" Sansa turned around; it was the Hound.

She wanted to hug him, smile at him, but he asked her abruptly, "Where is that little monster?"

"She kept running."

She didn't even stop to check to see where I was….

The Hound left her there saying, "Hide in this bush and don't make a sound, got it?" then ran and ran in the hope of not making too much noise.

The younger Stark was running, she was fast.

Although she was fast, Sandor was more. He caught her from behind by encircling her by the arm and then said in her ear, "Kick all you want, little wolf, it won't do you any good."

Sandor would have liked the little one to be as docile as Sansa, but if Sansa was as gentle as a lamb, Arya was uncontrollable, a veritable wild wolf, he, for their sake, was forced to strike her, and so, having loaded her onto his shoulders and retrieved Sansa, the three of them walked away from the Whispering Wood.

[strangesmallbard]

something i’m observing in knight of the seven kingdoms is how people are drawn to dunk. after just one conversation, they seem to trust him implicitly and rely on him to uphold ideals of justice and honor. for example: egg, baelor breakspear, the fossoway squire raised to be a knight, eustace osgey. (i say men and not “people” bc the only woman given any page time so far is tanselle; her service worker/customer relationship with dunk + lower position in the hierarchy at the tournament + Westerosi Misogyny very likely informs their interactions. i’m about to meet rohanne and may update with my thoughts afterward.)

it would be wrong to say that dunk is wholly good. this is asoiaf; both grrm’s heroes and villains typically have complex moral values. rather, dunk 1) tries to be good and 2) believes it’s possible to be good in a world that rewards power and violence over anything else. he also maintains these convictions when “common sense” says otherwise and/or his bodily safety is at risk—i.e. kicking a targaryen prince in the mouth. men who want to be good and recognize how fucked westerosi society is are drawn to dunk like moths to a flame. these men also believe they’re shrewder than dunk; their convictions clash with their notion of “common sense.”

as a result, they revere him as a perfect expression of knighthood ideals and feel inspired to fight for honor again. this is why egg gets dunk when aerion hurts tanselle and, i believe, why baelor breakspear eventually fights by his side. (dunk is obviously not perfect; he has his own character arc to go through. he’s pretty uncomfortable with this reverence and feels a lot of misplaced guilt over his actions—an common ironic trait for heroes that fits really well in this narrative.) baelor is especially interesting in this context. right before he dies, he accepts dunk into his service and professes him as the type of man westeros needs. although we don’t have his pov, we can surmise his disillusionment with both his family and the feudal system overall.

as the dunk & egg stories deal with the aftermath of the blackfyre rebellions, i think we can also surmise that baelor’s disillusionment comes from winning the battle against “the pretender,” only to find the targs lacking honor, valor, kindness. perhaps dunk’s immediate willingness to risk everything to protect just one person inspires him to action once again, to a tragic end. (really good writing moment for grrm tbh, it’s going to be one of those asoiaf scenes that sticks with me.)

all in all, i really like dunk’s contribution to asoiaf’s internal questions about Being a Good Person. is staying honorable possible? does it even matter to believe in justice and honor when the world is unjust and dishonorable? how do i stay true to my convictions when i also want to stay alive and protect my loved ones? many characters encounter these questions—brienne & jaime are the most salient examples of Dunk Vibes from the og series, but there’s also dany, sam tarly, sansa, arya, ned, tyrion, sandor clegane, lady stoneheart, etc. dunk & egg also allows grrm to really lay into the monarchy and get into pacifism. anyway, i’m excited to see how these themes further develop in the rest of the dunk & egg stories and twow/ados (obligatory 😵‍💫 disclaimer.)