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Sandor knew that his time serving the Lannister's was coming to an end; it was just a matter of how and when. In the beginning he had been grateful to them for taking him in and giving him work and a place to stay but lately it had become a torment. He was tired of following their orders, carrying out their dirty work and witnessing their ever escalating cruel and vicious agendas.
You had shown him something different, that there was more to life, and he was beginning to understand that he wanted to experience more of it. You had shown him love and forgiveness, something that no other person had ever done before. You treated him like somebody who was worth so much more than what he thought himself to be. You dared him to believe that maybe one day he could be happy.
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The war had been slowly getting closer to King's Landing and now the city was preparing for battle on its very doorstep. Stannis Baratheon's fleet had finally set sail from Dragonstone and was on it's approach to Blackwater Bay.
You hadn't seen Sandor since that morning, when you had whispered your hurried goodbyes and reluctantly left his room. You were well aware that it might be the last time that you saw him. The thought of it left a feeling of heavy dread in your stomach. However scared you were of Joffrey's retribution it had not been enough to keep you from Sandor's side.
Cersei had ordered the highborn woman of the keep to assemble in the throne room and that is where you and Sansa now found yourself, waiting for any scrap of news about what was going on outside the city walls. Occasionally Ser Osney or Ser Osfryd would come to Cersei with news but the only thing she seemed to care about was Joffrey's whereabouts.
When she thought that he was getting too close to the fighting for comfort she ordered Ser Osney to return him to the keep. Of course Ser Osney argued against this wisdom but a veiled threat from Cersei was enough to send him on his way.
A little while later news came that Joffrey was at the castle gatehouse where a mob of people were trying to gain entry. Soldiers were deserting on all sides, citizens were trying to flee the city and there was rioting and looting in the streets. Tyrion had led a sortie out to deal with some of Stannis's men and the Hound was missing.
When you heard this it felt as if the world was about to crash down around you. Sansa grasped your hand and gave you a worried look. Sansa had no love for Sandor herself but she knew how much he meant to you.
Cersei had left the throne and was making her way out of the hall, off to retrieve her son. Ser Osney followed on her heels.
At her departure the other women also began drifting off; you supposed they were going to look for whatever safety they could find. Maybe their Lords and husband's were dead and surely all they had awaiting them was rape and defilement at the hands of Stannis's drunken soldiers.
You grabbed Sansa's arm and ushered her quickly out of the room, hoping that everyone was too preoccupied to notice you leave.
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The world was green. Or so it seemed. A bright, lucid green that filtered through the voiles at the window. You approached the balcony, pulled aside the curtains and stepped outside. For as far as you could see the horizon was bathed in a sickly glow, pierced with dancing flames and wreathed with thick, black smoke.
You stared in horror at the scene before you, unable to contemplate what it meant.
All you could think about was Sandor and wonder where he was and if he was still alive.
Just then, as if your thoughts had somehow summoned him, he came bursting through the door.
Nothing could have prepared you for seeing how he looked in that moment. He was covered in blood; whether it was his own or someone else's you couldn't tell. His hair was plastered to his scalp, drenched in more blood and sweat. As he spoke you could tell that he had been drinking heavily but it was the look in his eyes that scared you most. He looked haunted and desperate.
'Get your things, we must leave.'
'What do you mean?' You asked in confusion.
'We're going. Leaving King's Landing. Now.'
He grabbed a pack from the wardrobe and began throwing things into it; anything that he thought you might want. 'We must hurry...That is if you want to come with me...'
He took a moment to look at you imploringly.
'Yes, but what's happened?'
'The city is lost, the Blackwater is on fire. There is nothing to stay here for. Stanis will kill us all. He turned to look at Sansa. 'Are you coming with us?'
Sansa looked absolutely terrified and was shaking her head vehemently.
'Please Sansa,' you asked, taking her hands in your own, 'come with us, we can go North, we can go home.'
She stood, seemingly frozen to the spot, staring at Sandor with a look of horror on her face. 'I cannot.'
'Yes, you can,' you pleaded with her.
Still shaking her head she said, 'Stanis won't hurt me. I will be safe here. He will send me home to my family. I know he will.'
'If that's what you think then you are a stupid girl.' Sandor almost spat at her. 'Come on, we don't have time for this.' He clutched at your arm, pulling you away.
You looked at Sansa, not knowing what to do, torn between your friend and your lover. Tears were beginning to form at the corners of your eyes and were threatening to spill down your cheeks. In the end she gave you a fierce hug and pushed you away. 'Go on,' she said. 'You must go. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine.'
You nodded in agreement and turned to leave but before you reached the door you remembered something. The cloak.
Crossing over to the chest you pulled it out and carefully put it in your pack. After saying your last goodbyes to Sansa, you and Sandor slipped quietly from the room and into the corridor.
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The Keep was relatively quiet as you made your way through the empty rooms and down the winding stairs. You assumed that most people were hiding away, frightened for their lives.
The drawbridge to the holdfast was still lowered and you were amazed when you were able to leave without anyone challenging you.
When you finally reached the stables Sandor began to saddle Stranger before turning to you and asking, 'can you ride?'
'Of course.'
'Good. That horse there,' he pointed. 'Get it ready.' He indicated the saddle and bridle hanging on the wall.
You moved quickly to do as you were bid and hurriedly got the horse ready.
'Here, I want you to take this.' Sandor came close and you saw that he was offering you a dagger.
'But I don't know anything about using that.' You started to protest.
'I don't care. Take it.' He cut you off.
You tucked it into your belt before he gave you a leg up onto the horse.
'Stay close to me and let me do the talking,' he said.
As you made your way across the yard you became aware of more activity around you, the sounds of shouting and fighting, but again nobody approached. You could smell the smoke from the harbour as it drifted through the city and you couldn't help but think about the horrors that were going on beyond the walls.
The small postern gate was only being guarded by two gold cloaks; most of the other guards had been called to the main gate. Sandor urged Stranger into trot towards them. 'Open the gate,' he commanded.
'Can't do that Ser. Not supposed to let anyone in or out.'
Sandor drew his sword from its scabbard and the guard eyed it nervously but didn't make any move to open the gate.
'Don't be fucking stupid man,' Sandor snarled down at him. 'The fighting will soon be over and you might just get away with your life, unless you want to end it here and now.'
The guard looked up defiantly but his companion was already at the gate, using the pulley to lift the wooden bar. The guard that Sandor was addressing fixed his face into a scowl but it seemed that self preservation had began to override duty and he eventually went to help.
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The flight from the city became a blur. You were aware of Sandor pushing Stranger on through crowds of people, soldiers and towns folk alike, all clamouring to flee the fighting. You remember being terrified as hands tried to grab at your skirts and pull you from your horse, people desperate for any means to escape. Up ahead Sandor was using his sword hilt to clear a swift path through the throng. You were thankful that he wasn't spilling anymore blood.
Amazingly the main gates to the city stood wide open as the flow of the crowd came and went. To your surprise you noticed an overwhelming number of Lanister troops which you weren't expecting but you had little time to give it much thought. Sandor had forced a path through to the gate and you suddenly found yourself on the other side of the city wall with the road stretching out before you. Sandor dug his heels into Stranger's side and yelled at you to follow him as they set off at a gallop, leaving a cloud of dust behind them.
You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, almost in time with your horse's hoof beats as you raced to keep up. You were scared that someone would soon be on your trail, hunting you down like the fugitives that you had just become. You couldn't help but look back every now and then to check but you soon gave up when you realised that there was nobody following you.
Eventually Sandor slowed the pace slightly and settled into a more gentle canter. He wanted to get as far away from the city as he could before you had to stop for the night but he didn't want to exhaust the horses; you had a long way to go.
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When Sandor finally called a halt it was in a small clearing which was buried deep within the trees. You had had to push your way through the undergrowth and hanging foliage to find it. The river was close by but there was very little chance that you would be seen; the surrounding trees grew right down to the bank edge with their swaying branches trailing in the water. It was a perfect place to stop.
Sandor tied the horses and left them to graze on what they could find before taking out what small provisions he had managed to bring from King's Landing. He would not light a fire as the night was still warm; you would have to make do with cold food and a blanket. You ate in silence and when you had both finished he stored what was left in the pack and went down to the river. You considered following him for a moment but then decided against it; you thought it better to let him have some time alone.
You waited, and waited and when it became apparent that Sandor wasn't going to return in a hurry, you did finally go to find him.
He was sitting in the moonlight on the grass bank. You could tell he had been in the water; his hair was still damp. His wet shirt was spread on the ground next to him and you guessed that he had tried to wash it. His armour was piled beside it.
You sat quietly next to him, not saying a word. He continued to stare straight ahead until he eventually decided to speak.
'I tried to wash the blood out'
You acknowledged him but kept silent.
'It's still there... It won't come clean.'
'We'll steal you another shirt.' You put your hand on his arm but he pulled away.
'You think it's that easy?' He said in a low voice.
'No, I don't think it's that easy. But it's a start.'
He nodded his head and looked at you. What you saw in his face made your heart ache for him. You wanted to take him in your arms and hold him. Tell him that everything would be okay. But that was not Sandor's way.
Instead you offered to help him try and clean his armour.
He grumbled. 'I'll do it. It's no job for a lady.'
'But I want to help if I can.'
'Not that. I'll not have you scrubbing off another man's blood that I am responsible for... If you want to help you can lay on your back for me.'
'Sandor?'
'For fucks sake woman do I have to spell it out for you?'
You bristled at the tone of his voice and it was times like this that you doubted why he was really with you. You considered saying no to him but that was one of the hardest things for you to do. You could not deny him. You would have given him the world if he'd asked for it.
Sandor's love making was not always gentle and tonight was one of those times. Born out of frustration and desperation and seen to completion on a tide of dark emotions. It was purely a need for release.
You didn't always mind so much; when he wanted to, he could be kind, loving and passionate. But tonight he left you feeling cold and numb.
Afterwards he mumbled an apology to you before gathering his things and stalking back to the camp. After a while you followed him, straightening your skirts as you went.
Sandor was laying on the ground, wrapped in a blanket with his back to you. You gathered your own blanket and settled down next to him but not so close that you could touch him. You felt cold and lonely, bereft of his warmth and love and as you tried to fall asleep you could feel tears sliding down your cheeks.
You drifted off with thoughts of him running through your mind, of all the times you had made love and how sometimes he would make you feel like you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him.
You had no way of knowing what would happen to you now but you did know that you couldn't to do this on your own and the one person that you needed so desperately seemed so far away.
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You awoke the next morning to find a delicate mist drifting through the camp. With the early morning sunrise filtering through the trees the clearing shimmered with an ethereal beauty.
The blankets were damp and as you sat up and ran your fingers through your hair your joints protested at their night of sleeping on the hard ground.
You looked around but couldn't see Sandor and for a moment you panicked, thinking that he had left, but you quickly realised that Stranger was still tethered to the tree, busily cropping the grass. He couldn't be far away.
You knew that Sandor would want to be off as soon as possible so you began to pack your bedding away and load up the horses. You paused for a moment to stroke your horse's muzzle, enjoying the small comfort that it brought to be close to another living thing; you had missed Sandor's presence last night.
Whilst lost in your reverie you failed to hear him approaching from the trees and his sudden appearance startled you.
'Good. You're awake.' He said quietly.
'Sandor! You made me jump.'
He moved to stand before you and you could tell that he had something on his mind.
'What is it?' You asked.
He stood stiffly, with a familiar frown on his face.
'l am sorry about last night,' he apologised in a low grumble. 'I didn't mean to treat you like that.'
You smiled at him sadly. 'I know you didn't.'
There you go again, you scolded yourself, making excuses for him.
'You are the last person I want to hurt,' he continued 'but that is all I seem to do...'
'Please, don't say that. It wasn't your fault.'
Sandor shook his head In denial.
'Why are you still with me?' He asked with a hint of apprehension in his voice, as if he was afraid of the answer.
You sighed. 'I've told you this before. I'm with you because I love you, and I want to be with you, and whatever it is that you are going through I will be here for you.'
'But you are so pretty, so beautiful, you could have your pick of any man. Why choose me?'
'Because there is no other man that makes me feel like you do...Here, let me show you...'
You gently pulled him down to you and placed your lips against his, holding him there for the longest of moments.
Again you kissed him, this time more forcefully, teasing him with your tongue. As you felt his mouth yield to yours and his arms wrap around your shoulders your own body responded with a flutter deep down inside.
Sandor moaned softly against you and pulled you tightly to himself. You could feel yourself melting in his arms. You took his hand in yours and placed it against your chest so that he could feel your heart racing.
'You feel that?' You whispered into his ear. 'Nobody else does that to me. Only you.'
'It's just that when I swore that vow to protect you I didn't realise that it was me that you would need protection from.'
'Sandor, don't. Don't spoil what we have by thinking like that. I forgive you...I would forgive you anything.'
He looked at you for a moment and then sighed. 'I've heard it said that love is blind; that must surely be the case.'
'I'm not blind Sandor, I just see things that others do not.'
You reached up and curled some of his loose hair around your finger and then pushed it away from his face. 'Sandor Clegane, please don't ever doubt that I want to be by your side.'
'I guess you'll just have to remind me every now and then.'
'I promise, just don't push me away.'
This time he reached down to kiss you, enfolding you in his enormous arms. Finally, he lifted you up on to your horse's back and made sure you were comfortable.
'Are you ready to go?' He asked reluctantly.
'Yes. I'm ready to follow you to the seven hells and back.'
'Don't joke,' he grumbled. 'That may be just where we are going.'
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The days moved slowly but mainly passed without incident. The roads were quiet and you saw very few people. There were times when you had to move off the road and conceal yourselves while patrols of soldiers moved past on their way to somewhere.
You managed to scavenge food along the way but it was poor fare and there was little of it. The supplies that Sandor had brought from King's Landing hadn't gone very far and
It wasn't long into your journey before you began to feel unwell.
It had started slowly at first, a creeping fatigue that slowly drained the energy from your body. It was followed shortly after by a sickness that left you exhausted and weak. Sandor had to watch and wait every day while you fell on your hands and knees and brought up whatever small amount of food you had eaten.
He was obviously worried about you and was frustrated that he could do nothing to help. He let you rest for as long and as often as he could and your progress north had become a long and drawn out trudge.
Sandor was convinced that he was losing you to some insidious illness but you had other suspicions as to what was causing it. Your moon blood was late and surely that could only mean one thing...
You were at a loss as to how it could've happened. You had been so careful, so diligent in taking the preparation you got from the woman in the city. What had gone wrong?
You cried inside at the situation you now found yourself in; both of you fugitives with no, money, food or shelter. Unmarried and with child and you were absolutely sure that Sandor would be furious with you, although he couldn't reasonably expect you to take all the blame.
You had to ask yourself if things could things get any worse?
Unfortunately you were about to find out that they could...
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You had sat by the fire that evening and watched as Sandor had downed all four of the wine skins you had managed to loot from the small camp you had stumbled across. What had started as a polite request to share food had soon turned into a bloody skirmish.
Sandor had managed to dispatch the soldiers but not before he had taken a blow to the shoulder with an axe. Now you were cursing him thoroughly as you tried to clean his wound.
'Fuck. Sandor, how is you getting drunk supposed to be helping us.'
'Leave me alone, woman' he mumbled as his head rolled backwards in a drunken loll.
'Fine.' You groused back, glaring at him and finally giving up.
It was late and the fire was beginning to burn low. Not a scrap of the chicken was left from your meal but you were still hungry, having let Sandor have the larger share. A sharp pain now gripped your insides. You placed your hand on your stomach and offered a prayer to whatever gods may have been listening. You made a promise to tell Sandor your secret soon. After all, he had a right to know.
Instead of going to sleep you decided to try and keep watch; you doubted that you would be able to stay awake for long though.
You carefully unsheathed Sandor's sword and placed it between you, incase you needed it quickly, not that you really thought you would be able to swing it.
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Something must have woken you because you become vaguely aware of movement around you. A quick glance to your right afforded you the sight of Sandor, fast asleep and snoring. Sleeping off the wine and for once without a care in the world.
You carefully let your arm creep sideways, looking for the sword hilt until a voice stopped you in your tracks.
'Hold it right there little lady.' It hissed from the darkness. 'Make one move and I'll slit your throat.'
You suddenly became deathly still even though you could feel yourself shaking with fear inside.
'Now, just you stand up, nice and careful like, while we deal with your friend here.'
You were horrified when you saw that 'dealing with' actually meant a blow to the head followed by a dirty sack hastily thrown over him so he couldn't see.
You cried out in protest but all that earned you was a back hand across the cheek.
With your face stinging and your hands tied you were marched down to the roadside and bundled unceremoniously into the back of an awaiting wagon.
A short while later you could hear other men approaching with Sandor in tow who was not coming quietly, struggling and cursing at the top of his voice.
In his inebriated state he was unable to free himself and soon joined you in the cart.
'Another one for the Lord of Light to judge,' laughed the men as the wagon began to roll.
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The cave you now found yourself in was dimly lit. There was a damp, earthy smell about it and you could hear water trickling somewhere nearby. It's occupants stood leisurely around the walls, talking in hushed whispers, a rag tag bunch of desperate men.
Two of them were by your side, firmly gripping your arms as if they thought you might take flight at any moment.
'I think we can untie the lady's hands lads. I don't think she'll give us much trouble. Highborn ladies are well mannered. She is not some whorish wild woman.'
The soft voice came from somewhere in the darkness and you could not see the speaker.
There was murmured voices from around the room and the bodyless voice chuckled.
'Have you been so long away from the sight of women that you have forgotten what a highborn lady looks like? Although I must admit, this one does look slightly worse for wear.'
You found yourself biting your tongue in an effort to keep a scathing remark from leaving your lips. Instead you shook yourself free and stood as upright as you could in a show of defiance.
Again the voice gave a gentle laugh.
'Now, what about our friend here. Who have you brought me?'
Another man stepped forward now and advanced on Sandor.
'Let us see!' He said grandiously. 'Is it a lion? Is it a wolf?..'
As he pulled the hood from Sandor's head another murmur of voices went round the cave.
'Ahh! Not a lion, or a wolf, but a hound!'
You lurched forward in an attempt to reach him but found yourself grabbed roughly again.
'Sandor Clegane!' The man observed. 'You're a long way from home and traveling in strange company. What brings you to this part of the world?'
'I might ask the same of you Thoros,' Sandor snarled and spat on the floor.
Thoros smiled, 'charming to the last Clegane.'
'What the fuck have you brought me here for. If you're going to kill me then bloody well get on with it!' Sandor was becoming more and more angry.
'I believe that you owe a debt to the people of Westeros. You will be judged by the Lord of Light. If he finds you worthy may he lend strength to your sword, but if not, may you pay for your crimes with your life.'
'What crimes?' Sandor countered. 'Every one of you here has committed some crime or other. Don't pretend that you haven't.'
'Be that as it may, we have been judged and forgiven...It is your turn now.'
You chose this moment to speak up and argue Sandor's case. 'Wait! Please!'
All eyes turned on you expectantly.
'Is it a crime to follow the orders of your Lord and King? To loyally follow his commands? Is this how he is to be rewarded?'
'Ahh! The lady speaks,' said the voice from the shadows. 'You plead leniency for this man?'
'Yes.'
'And who are you to him?'
'He has promised to escort me home to my family.'
'And who are they?'
'My Uncle is Lord Flint of Widow's Watch. We owe loyalty to House Stark.'
'And why would Sandor Clegane, a known deserter and scoundrel agree to that?'
'Money, you idiot!' Sandor growled from across the room. 'I was going to ransom her back to her family.'
'But if you die,' added Thoros, 'one of us could see her home and The Brotherhood could claim the money.'
'No!' you blurt out. 'Please, it has to be him. He can't die. I need him.'
Thoros looks at you thoughtfully.
'And besides, he is injured,' you carried on. 'Surely you cannot ask an injured man to fight in a trial by combat?'
'That is true. We will give him a few days to recover and then proceed.'
In a blind panic you tried one last time to change their minds.
'Wait! There is one last thing. I wasn't lying when I said that I needed him... I am with child... Please, I beg you. I don't want our baby to grow up without a father...'
You could have heard a pin drop. Sandor stared at you with a look of stunned disbelief on his face.
'Why didn't you tell me?' He asked quietly, his voice choked with emotion.
You shook your head. 'I didn't know myself for sure. I waited until I was certain...'
'Then he raped you!' Thoros suddenly accused.
'No! No, he didn't. Sandor Clegane does not rape women,' you cried indignantly. 'We are together. We belong to each other.'
Thoros suddenly laughed in response to this. A harsh bark that echoed around the room. 'Sandor Clegane, the ugliest man in Westeros has found himself a woman and a highborn at that! Ha! Whores not good enough for you any more Clegane?'
You could tell that Sandor was seething with rage by this point and your chest exploded with pride and dread at the same time when he shouted out 'someome bring me my fucking sword!'