A blog dedicated to Sandor x Sansa from A Song of ice and Fire/ Game of Thrones. This blog is run by twin sisters, Mod Zae, and Mod Fae. The multi-chapter fanfiction "A Sword with Wings" is written by Mod Zae and available on Tumblr and Fanfiction.net for now. AU in which Sansa goes with Sandor the night of Blackwater.
This is your friendly reminder that you don’t owe anyone a reason for shipping something. You’re not a bad person for enjoying a ship whether you’re a survivor or you just ship something because you like the dynamic.
In light of the shit that’s happened on the show, here’s this thing I made months ago but never posted for some reason. I don’t know which version I like the best, so here’s both (X)
Tbh SanSan is one of the few ships I know where the general shipping community says “I ship them when <character A> is older” and it means a canon verse story set a few years down the road with all of the original material has the canon material as background information and <character B> has aged/matured as well. Not just a random au where <character A> is legal age for no reason beyond shipping purposes and literally nothing has changed about <character B>.
I mean, SanSan fics like that exist and there’s nothing wrong with it, but the community as a whole agrees that if they were ever to actually get together they should have a few years to work it out instead rushing to get them together instantly.
will you pretty please continue your small folk Sansa, noble Sandor a/u? I want very much to read more.
Ugh, I’m sorry I didn’t answer this sooner~
I’m also sorry to say that’ll be a while before I continue any of my fanfics. I’m in college and I’m desperately trying to keep up with my math class, which means I’ve put everything except my RP blog on hold until I pass.
On that note I plan on updating Pieces and ASwW before I work on the role reversal au, but yes, eventually it will be continued. Thank you for the support, I hope I’ll be able to work on it soon!
I’m watching a documentary on GRRM where he takes Sibel Kekilli through his hometown of Santa Fe. And look what I saw decorating the walls of GRRM’s house: a Sansan gallery ;)
(it’s John Picacio’s Sansan illustration for the 2012 ASOIAF calendar).
This is just sort of a scene I have in my head I can’t work into any of my fanfics. A sort of self indulgent birthday present for myself and Mod Fae (twins ftw)
There was something in the way the man stood so still that made her think of him.
Alayne Stone stood beside her ‘father’ as they greeted their guests from the Quiet Isle, a man who called himself the Elder Brother and his companion, a gravedigger) who had not yet said a word. They were here to collect the dead from the Vale and take them back to their isle to be buried before the next winter storm made it impossible for anyone to come or go.
The Elder Brother spoke to Petyr Baelish, Alayne was supposed to listen as well so that if there was anything she could do to accommodate the visitors she could be of service. But the second man standing beside the Elder Brother was just too...too...
She didn’t have a word for it. She wanted to say familiar, but she had no reason to think that. He was as tall as the Hound, and his posture was much the same, even the way he stood so perfectly still reminded her of Sandor Clegane when he guarded Joffery at King’s Landing. Alayne fancied that maybe, maybe, it was him, the Hound at the Vale in disguise.
But at the same time, that just couldn’t be. He was the right size, and he clearly had been someone’s guard before becoming a gravedigger, but he was lame. She had seen his limp when he made his way in.
Alanye tried to justify her parallel, the Hound could have been injured after he left King’s Landing. He could have given up his sword and gone to this Quite Isle for a new life. He could have! That could be Sandor Clegane standing right there in front of her!
A small part of her knew she was being a bit foolish. A part of her knew that it was impossible. He wouldn’t come here, even if he was no longer loyal to the Lannisters, he had no reason to be here. He didn’t know she was here.
Was it really him?
Or did she just want him there so much that she was imagining him?
...And yet she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Petyr Baelish and the Elder Brother were too busy talking to notice, but Alayne looked at the gravedigger each time her attention drifted from the conversation. It was one of these times when her eyes darted his way, that Alayne noticed his gaze upon her as well.
His face was covered so that she only saw his eyes, and only briefly before he looked away. But in those few seconds when their eyes were locked, Alayne saw something in them that made her heart stop for a second. That look. An uneasy recognition, as if the gravedigger wasn’t sure he believed what his eyes were showing him.
The only reason anyone would look at her like that is if they knew she was Sansa Stark. Dark hair and new clothes could fool strangers, but if someone who knew her looked, they’d know. The gravedigger looked at her once more, and Sansa was almost certain she was right.
The gravedigger was Sandor Clegane.
Despite her growing assurance, Sansa dared not get her hopes up. She still had a few doubts, lingering fears and repeated disappoints that kept her from being joyous. She could still be wrong, she could still be imagining it. He needed to say something, or show his face. Only then could she be sure.
“Alayne, Sweetling, could you escort our guests to appropriate quarters?” Lord Baelish said, “We’ll make all the arrangements, and you can rest and resupply, I suspect it will be a while yet before you’ll have a warm hearth to sleep by.”
“Yes, of course, thank you lord Baelish. Come along, brother.” The Elder Brother replied, “Alayne was it?” He asked greeting the young woman he believed to be Petyr Baelish’s child. Sansa saw the doubt cross the gravedigger’s eyes.
“Alayne Stone, yes. My father and I will see to your every need during your visit.” She replied, glancing to the gravedigger, trying to judge his response. Surely, if it were Sandor, he’d remember her voice?
Unfortunately, he was turned away again, and the Elder Brother stood between them as they walked through the halls. The gravedigger did not speak, but the Elder Brother was a pleasant enough companion. Alayne escorted him to the first available room they had for guests and made sure he knew where everything he required for his comfort was.
The gravedigger remained silent as they moved to the next room, even when Alayne tried to engage him into conversation. It was not until she opened the door to the room he would be staying in that he did anything. Alayne had just pushed it open, when suddenly she found herself being shoved inside and the wooden door hurriedly closed behind them.
For a moment, she feared the worst, and almost cried for help when his harsh voice reached her ears.
“Little Bird?” There was a slight, unsure tremor in the name, almost a question that made her freeze, daring not to turn around. A large hand was placed on her shoulder, and she heard cloth shifting. He spoke again, “Little Bird...”
Only one man called her that.
Sansa’s shoulder was bare, his hand was rough and familiar. Her hand slid up to touch his fingers, then wrap slowly around them, clasping slightly, as if she feared that if she let go he’d vanish. “Is it really you?” Her voice wavered with the same doubt that laced his.
The only answer she received was a gentle squeeze on her shoulder. She turned her head, and saw his burned visage. Once, she felt like she might have burst into tears seeing that face. Now, she simply stared. It was him! He was right there! Slowly, Sansa lifted her free hand to touch his cheek, the burned side. A small noise escaped his lips when her fingers brushed his burns.
He was real.
A long period of silence followed. It was obvious that neither of them had any idea what to do next. Sandor hadn't come to rescue her. He hadn't expected to even find her here. He had no weapons, no armor, no plan of escape and worst of all he had that limp.
What would happen if he tried to run out the gates with her? If they managed to sneak passed Littlefinger’s guards at all, he was sure to be followed. What then? Littlefinger still had spies everywhere, they’d be found. Where could they go? They weren't exactly packed to survive being hunted through the winter. Sandor squeezed her shoulder again as they both came to the same conclusion.
There was nothing he could do for her.
It only took a moment for Sansa’s despair at the realization to pass. No, it was alright, she survived this long without his help, she could continue to survive. “Will you be on the Quiet Isle for long?” She asked after a while.
Sandor’s hand dropped to his leg, brushing it as if it were in pain. “I...I’ve been working as their gravedigger... one of the brothers...” He didn’t seem to have any idea how to explain his situation.
Sansa didn’t blame him. The idea of Sandor Clegane being a holy man seemed a little absurd. “So you may be there for years, then?” She asked, he answered with a slow nod. She stepped closer again, and without thinking about it, stood on her toes to kiss him.
Sandor didn’t seem surprised by her kiss, but at the same time he was less enthusiastic about returning it than Sansa imagined. They had both changed, she was not the scared little girl he’d left the night the Blackwater burned, and he wasn’t the terrible warrior who had taken a kiss and song. Too much had changed. They didn’t know each other anymore, and so this kiss seemed strange.
Sansa pulled away and touched his face, “Then wait there.” She said, “It may be years, but I will come find you.”
“Little Bird.” He whispered and touched her hair longingly.
She held his hand in hers for a moment, she wanted to sit with him and talk about what had lead them each to this place, how they had become what they were, but simply was no time for them to speak. “Lord Baelish will be missing me, I should go.” She said and brushed her lips against his fingers. “I do not expect we will have any time alone before you leave.”
Sandor nodded, biting his lower lip. She expected him to protest, perhaps block the door and try to coerce her into sharing his bed, rather than allow her to return to Lord Baelish, but he didn’t. “Sansa,” He said before she left, it almost stunned her to hear her real name again.
“Yes?”
Sandor stepped toward her as if he meant to kiss her once more, but changed his mind at the last second and instead stroked her hair again. “I’ll see you on the Quiet Isle.” He said, awkwardly, like he had wanted to say something else.
"I’ll see you.” Sansa agreed as she closed the door. They stood there a moment, Sandor on one side, Sansa on the other with a door between them. Sansa fancied a moment, to open it up again and spend the night with him regardless of what Lord Baelish would want.
But she couldn’t bring herself to open the door. Instead, she turned around and walked back down the hall and back to the court. When she stood by Lord Baelish’s side again, Sansa Stark was gone once more, and Alayne Stone had emerged.
family movie night always gives me the most ridiculous ideas for aus that I'm never gonna do. Just imagine a Sansan au based on the Mummy, 'cause that's what is stuck in my head.
This was for the appreciation week, like I said earlier, I was really looking forward to this one, but I didn't quite get it finished to my satisfaction on time so sorry it's late. Small folk Sansa and Noble Sandor AU.
This is not a complete story, so the ending is a little awkward but if enough people want me to continue I will, but it will not update as quickly as A Sword with Wings or Pieces in a Different Game.
*Note since this is AU I'm changing the story of how Sandor got his scars a little.
It all started when Sandor received a letter informing him of his father's illness. Lord Edmund Clegane was growing older and sickness took him often, but according to this letter it was different this time and he was not expected to live much longer. The letter from the maester urged Sandor to return, his ailing father wanted to speak with him desperately.
Sandor hadn't been to the keep in many years, but as he strode down familiar roads, a sudden sense of homesickness over took him. He never realized how much he missed this place, the woods, the fields, the creeks and the big boulders. His whole childhood was spent running through this forest with a common boy that was his best friend until the day Sandor was summoned to join the King's army.
Why had he never found time to visit?
The town below his father's keep was a sight for sore eyes. It was exactly as it was the day he had left, down to the broken windmill. A few heads turned as Sandor and his men rode into town, some pointed and surprised gasps were heard. A few children started to cry at the sight of his face, only to be hushed by their mothers.
"Don't be rude, child!" A woman scolded, "That's the lord's youngest son!"
"Lord Edmund has another son?"
"Yes, Ser Gregor's little brother."
Ah yes, that would be why he'd never returned. Ser Gregor, his older brother, the monster of Clegane keep. Sandor doubted anyone besides him called Gregor that, but it was true. His brother was a monster, the very monster that had grabbed him and shoved his face into the flames. Knowing that Gregor would be there, Sandor had half a mind to turn around and leave.
But because his father was dying, he pressed forward.
There was an intersection ahead where several roads met all together. One led to his father's keep, another to the market, the third to the peasants homes and the the road he was coming from, leading out of town.
Sandor stopped his horse, remembering how often accidents happened at this crossroad, and made a signal for his men to do the same, but his second in command did not see. Just as Sandor had anticipated, a young dark haired girl bolted out into the street without looking and startled the man's horse. The girl screamed and the horse reared and kicked, but she scrambled back unharmed.
"Watch where you're going!" the commander growled, Sandor silenced him with a look.
"Arya!" Another girl, red haired this time, dashed forward to haul the younger one off the ground. The two were either sisters or really good friends if she was so concerned.
She looked up at them, and her eyes met Sandor's. Her eyes...Her eyes were what caught his attention. They were wide, bright and innocent, but had a kind of intensity that made his breath catch in his throat.She looked far too lovely to be lowborn, and had the bearing of a noble lady, but her faded clothes and only semi-clean hair suggested otherwise.
Daughter of a wealthy merchant, Sandor supposed, or perhaps distantly related to a noble family.
"I beg your pardon ser." She said, "Please, my sister and I were just-"
"-It's fine." Sandor interjected, "We're in no hurry and no one was hurt." He tossed a quick glare at his commander. "If you need to cross the street, you may go."
The red haired girl clutched her sister's shoulder, "Thank you ser, but my sister and I were just playing. Father is selling our fleece, then we are going on a day trip to the river." She glanced back, and Sandor noted the family her gaze turned to.
Two young boys, little brothers or cousins, and two older boys, again either brothers or some other relation. Beyond them, a couple that must have been their parents. Sandor recognized the father, he'd seen him in the village often as a child, and Sansa had an unmistakable resemblance to her mother.
"Ah, I see." Sandor replied, "Very well, good day to you."
"And you too ser."
"Arya! Sansa! Come here, I want you to meet an old friend of mine!" Their father called, and the pair of girls ran back. Sandor signaled for his company to continue forward.
He stopped the second in command, "Always stop at the cross roads." He growled, "If I find out any of the smallfolk in the shadow of my father's keep died under your horses hooves, the funeral expenses are coming out of your pocket. Am I clear?" Though not the monster that his brother was, Sandor did know how to instill fear in others.
"Yes, my lord."
Before continuing on to the keep, Sandor found himself looking back at the girl, Sansa, he'd heard her called. He didn't believe in things as childish as love at first sight, but Sandor did admit, something about Sansa was so utterly fascinating that he didn't think he'd be able to get her out of his head.
It was her eyes. He'd never see a woman with such intensity in her eyes.
As he turned to look back at her, Sandor found her gaze on him as well. She glanced away again when she saw him looking at her. Sansa's attention took him by surprise. He was used to people staring, being frightened, or disturbed, but this was different somehow. The burned man did not feel self-conscious under her stare, it was like she was trying to see passed the burn, rather than look only at it.
Sandor turned his horse and continued after his men. The encounter played and replayed in his head the whole while, and his thoughts were still on Sansa as he climbed up the stairs to his father's chambers. He knocked on the door, and shook his head as if trying to clear her from his mind before he spoke with Lord Clegane.
"Who's there...?" His father's voice was muffled and weak.
"It's Sandor, father," He said, "I'm here."
The door opened suddenly, and any light that might have come from the window was blocked out by the massive form of his older brother. Gregor always terrified him as a child, even before the incident with the fire, and the fear never really went away. Sandor just had better control of it now. "Brother." He greeted.
"Puppy." Gregor replied back.
Gods, Sandor hated being called that, but he dared not protest. "I'm here to see father."
"Let him in boy," Their father coughed, "Come Sandor, sit. I need to talk to you, boy."
Gregor stepped aside, but only left enough room in the doorway for his little brother to barely squeeze through. And even then their shoulders bumped and Sandor was sure he was going to pay for that one way or another. Gregor had killed good men for less, if they weren't brothers and therefore under mother father's protection, Sandor was certain he would not have lived to be two.
He approached the bed, father looked much the same as he had when Sandor left. His hair was much whiter than Sandor remembered, and thinner. Wrinkles lined his face, and he was rather pale, but he looked healthier than the letter had implied.
Edmund's eyes lit up when he saw Sandor, "My boy...My Baby boy..." Behind him, Sandor could almost feel Gregor tense up with envy. Gregor was the oldest and heir, but Sandor was pretty obviously the favorite son. "Sit down Sandor, my eyes aren't what they used to be, let me look at you....You've gotten bigger."
"Or maybe you just got smaller," Sandor said humorlessly, though Edmund chuckled anyway.
"Gregor, my boy, might I have a word with your brother in private?" He asked.
The elder Clegane brother growled, "Anything you have to say to Sandor you can say to me father." He replied.
"Oh, don't be selfish boy." Edmund replied, and started to cough "You...You've had...had thirteen years to talk to me in private."
"Father." Gregor still protested.
"Thirteen years." Their father said again, wiping some "Why don't you go to the woods and hunt a deer or boar for a feast to celebrate your brother's return?"
"I could be gone for days."
"Thirteen years."
At last Gregor relented. He still did not seem pleased to be leaving his favored little brother alone with their ailing father, but at least if he was out on a hunt then he could kill something. Preferably the deer or boar that father had suggested, but Sandor knew Gregor was not above killing another man to satisfy his bloodlust.
Or his own kin, a voice grimly reminded him.
"Sandor, stand by the window, would you?" His father requested, "Make sure he leaves."
"Yes father." The room went silent for a while, whatever Edmund wanted to say he wanted to be sure it stayed between him and Sandor. Gregor appeared in view armed and minimally packed for a trip that would last a few days. Sandor watched him go into the stables for a few minutes to get his horse, but said nothing about it until Gregor was out and headed toward the woods.
"He's gone father."
"About bloody time." Edmund's voice sounded much stronger than it had when Gregor had been in the room, and Sandor turned around to find his father sitting up straight with the same stern look he always had, "I can't believe I have to pretend I'm dying just to get you to come home and visit."
Sandor's irritation flared, father had been sending him letters for years requesting his presence back at the keep, of course faking being sick would be his next big scheme "I should have known."
"Don't be too hard on yourself boy, I'm not dying yet, not for several years the maester says, but I am ill and I did have a bad enough to convince Gregor I was dying." Edmund shook his head, "I Had to take medicine straight from the maester just to make sure your brother wasn't trying to slip me something to ease my suffering."
"He just can't wait to get rid of you can he?" Sandor folded his arms, he was privately much more relieved that his father wasn't dying than he was letting show. Despite how deep he tried to bury that part oh himself, there was still a shadow of the little boy who had loved his father more than anything in him somewhere and still dreaded losing him.
But the thing he dreaded more than that, was the simple matter of succession. If Edmund died the lordship, this keep, the land, and the family's wealth, all went to Gregor. The eldest Clegane brother had already stained their noble family name with gruesome bloody footsteps that Sandor was forced to follow during the war, staining his own name as well. Imagine what damage Gregor could do if he had the lordship.
The same thought seemed to be weighing on Edmund's mind, "Have you a woman in your life, Sandor?"
"No, father, my unit is pretty much constantly on the move, I haven't had the time to settle down."
"But is there anyone you would think to settle down with?"
The girl from before, the red-haired lass with the intense eyes came to mind, "No, father."
"You should start thinking about that." Edmund sat up straighter in his bed, reached over to the table and opened the drawer to pull out a very old parchment. "In fact, I insist you find a wife and have a child, sooner rather than later, look at this."
Sandor looked over it, he knew his letters so well that he could read them upside down, "'If a man steals another man's pig, the man will pay with his foot...' 'a peasant may not strike a lord, or lose the hand that was used to strike.' these are just really old laws." Sandor observed.
"Yes, and my grandfather had most of them overturned when the king put that new justice system in place, the ones that are no longer used have a mark by them," Edmund replied, drawing a line down the side of the paper with his finger "And the ones that do not have this mark are technically still legal. This one caught my eye: 'Should the family heir not be married with no heir of his own by his thirtieth year, the lordship will be passed to the child who first marries and produces an heir."
Gregor was passed thirty, "Father-"
Edmund folded up the paper and stuck it back in his drawer, "The king loves Gregor, his bloodlust anyway, so I cannot disinherit him without losing the king's favor." He explained, "But this law is still technically in place, if you marry and have a child, girl or boy, as long as it proves your wife is fertile, there is legally nothing Gregor, or the king, can do about it."
"Except kill me." Sandor said bitterly.
"I said legally." Edmund replied, "Listen Sandor, I do not want Gregor to have this land when I die. Most of the staff doesn't want him to, the people certainly don't want him to. You don't want him to."
"And all I have to do is marry and have a child." Sandor repeated, "Just like that, you think I can fall in love just like that?" Sansa flashed in his mind again, go away.
"You don't have to be in love. I didn't love your mother when we married." Edmund glanced over to the wall, where a portrait of their family hung, Sandor kept his eyes averted, the pain still haunted him, "Oh, my sweet Helga...Things would have been much different if she had lived."
Helga Clegane was an average woman, but Sandor had been so young when had she died he could only remember her as a gentle giant. She'd died in child birth, bearing his little sister. Sandor had so looked forward to being a big brother, and in honor of their mother's memory had vowed he'd take care of the new baby. Gregor had not been so enthusiastic.
Gregor was born with bad headaches, and had to take daily doses of milk of the poppy just to make it through his day. When he was an only child, Helga had administered it herself, sang him songs and played with him all day. A young girl, married to a stranger, bonding quickly to her first born child was not uncommon. But Gregor was a terror even then, he threw tantrums and worse if things did not go his way.
When Helga became pregnant with her second son, Gregor's care passed to a number of maids who would sometimes quit within a week due to the boy's bad temper. Sandor was born and Helga fell in love with her new born, and finally her husband too, She started paying personal attention to Sandor's care like his brother before him. Unlike his brother, Sandor was a well behaved infant, the staff adored him. By that age Gregor was old enough to start training with a wooden sword so he hardly saw his mother.
It evoked a terrible sense of sibling rivalry, that lasted to this day.
And when Helga died shortly after giving birth to her first and only daughter, Gregor held the newborn in blame. Sandor couldn't remember his sister's name, only that his father had once told him it meant 'joy', he was too ashamed that he'd forgotten to ask what it was. She was her mother's joy, even if Helga only had her for a few precious moments.
And she was taken too soon.
She lived to be three, energetic and wild, always running away from her scepta to watch her brothers (or rather, just Sandor she was always afraid of Gregor) in the training yard, or skillfully climbing out the tower windows to sit on the roof and look down at the village below their keep. On the rare occasions she did stick to her lessons, it was because it was a dancing day. Their sister loved to dance.
One day, she ran into the stables to hide from her scepta, Gregor was grooming his horse, the pin was open and her thrill little shriek startled the horse. Gregor had been too surprised to restrain him, and it bolted out of the stables, trampling the little girl under his hooves.
At least that was what Gregor claimed.
Sandor had been entering the stable from the other side, secretly meeting his sister so they could both sneak out that day and try to get to the river to play. Their sister was quiet as a mouse, trying not to be caught, Gregor was the one who shouted and startled the horse, but it was not from surprise. He did it on purpose, and slapped the horses rear to get it to run.
Sandor ran to his sister the moment the horse was out of the way, she still lived, but would need the Maester. He tried to pick her up and carry her out, but Gregor yanked him away, and dragged him over to the brazier that lit the stables, demanding to know what he'd seen. Foolishly, Sandor admitted to having seen the whole thing and threatened to tell their father, Gregor responded by forcing his brother's face into the flames. That was the last thing Sandor remembered.
The pain was so terrible that he was unconscious for days, when he awoke, he couldn't open his mouth without more searing pain. People rushed back and forth administering ointments and bitter medicines, but the worst thing was when they told him what Gregor said had happened. The eldest boy claimed that the two of them had been grooming the horse together when their sister entered and startled the beast. Surprise hand knocked Sandor back into the brazier, and the horse had trampled the girl to death before fleeing into the woods where it had been hunted down the previous morning.
Sandor was too badly hurt to tell them the truth. Gregor came to him when he found out he was awake and warned him, '"If you tell father, I'll burn the other half off too, do you hear me? Do you hear me?"
"Sandor, did you hear me?"
His father's voice snapped Sandor out of his thoughts, "Hm?"
"I said, I've spoken to every one of our neighboring lords, but they refuse to marry their daughters to the second son before the first, so you may need to marry below your status if we're going to pull this off."
"I see, fine, fine, I'll do it." Sandor replied, damn that girl wouldn't get out of his head.
"We can make that work, as the youngest son it's expected of you to be more...promiscuous with the small folk." Sandor snorted, "I know, I know, but that's what everyone traditionally expects. Everyone around here knows you're more honorable than Gregor, so if you could get a girl pregnant, no one will think twice if you married her."
"And then you'll sweep in with the declaration that I am the legal lord of this keep, right?"
"It'd probably be better to wait a month or two after the child is born, Gregor might be a bit dim, but his men aren't. Maester Laugrim didn't want me to tell you about this plan, but seeing as you were playing war for so long I needed to let you know what was at stake."
Sandor leaned back in his chair, he wasn't too keen about becoming lord of Clegane Keep, but he was even less keen about Gregor becoming lord. "I'll see what I can do." He agreed. Stop thinking about her.
"Keep it to yourself." Edmund said, "Don't trust anyone in this keep, or the village. And don't say a word to anyone, not your men, not your horse, not even any girls you decide to bed, if Gregor heard even the slightest whisper that you could be lord-"
"I know, I understand." Sandor replied, "Get some rest father, if you make a miraculous recovery before Gregor gets back it'll raise suspicions."
"Don't worry, Laugrim has something up his sleeve." Edmund laid back in the bed anyway, "There's a bottle of Dornish red in my cabinet there, we should have a toast, get the maester."
Sandor nodded and did as his father asked, in a few minutes they were raising their glasses to Sandor's return, the maester had added a drop of some medicine to help with Edmund's not-entirely-fake cough. Sandor turned to the window while the maester rattled on about how they could make his recovery seem less miraculous by administrating 'more'. His gaze was toward the river, it couldn't be seen at this distance, but he knew it was that way. Damn that girl.
Miles away, three girls ran to the shores of the rivers, splashing their bare feet in and giving delighted shrieks at the cold water. Sansa's hair almost seemed to glow in the sunlight, making her friends Beth and Jeyne envious of how it caught the wind.
Talk of the return of Sandor Clegane had been all that was discussed on the road. Sansa's mother was pleased, speaking of how the younger Clegane brother had always been more welcoming than Gregor, and hoped that wars had not hardened him.
Her father spoke of how his arrival was good for businesses throughout the village, the men he brought with him would be needing their armor cleaned, food and shelter, and undoubtedly a tourney would be held to celebrate his return, and that would put coin in many pockets.
Sansa herself could only talk about her encounter with the man. All the stories about his brother had called up a mental image of a slightly smaller Gregor who's face was burned. She had been surprised when he had not shouted or cursed at her little sister from running out in front of their horses, Sansa was more than used to hearing of Gregor beating people in the streets or worse.
Her friend Jeyne Pool and Beth Cassel insisted on hearing about his physical appearance, forcing Sansa to tell them that he was tall, even on his horse, and his shoulders were broad. She couldn't say much else because the encounter had been so brief, but Sansa did claim that the unburned side of his face was not at all bad.
She left out describing his eyes though. Sansa had found them the most intimidating thing about him. Those eyes had been to battle, and war, they had seen death and worse, but that was not what had drawn her to them. She couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but when ever someone asked about Sandor Clegane, she thought of his eyes, not the burn.
"And the scars weren't bothersome?" Beth asked, as they walked along the shore, "I heard they took up his entire face and still sport puss when he's angry."
"The burn was only on half his face, and they were very old." Sansa told her, "It wasn't as bad as they say, I've seen much worse down at the infirmary."
"Any you said he wears his hair long?" This question came from Jeyne, "Not a lot of men do that."
"My father does," Sansa answered, "And I think he does it to try to cover the burn."
"Where'd he get it, at a battle?"
"Father told me he got it years ago, an accident in the stables or something."
"What, a horse set his face on fire?"
"I don't know, I only saw him, we didn't share intimated details of our lives."
That quieted the pair for a while, Sansa led them to her favorite spot, a rock formation that stretched out several yards into the water. They climbed up, and across it, then down to sit at the edge and stick their legs in the water. Sansa took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Sandor Clegane grew up around here, did he ever come to this river and sit on this rock?
"Why do you think he came back?" Jeyne mused suddenly.
"Lord Edmund is sick, maybe he came to visit his father." Beth answered.
"Lord Edmund gets sick a lot, why did he come back now?" Jeyne added, "If Sandor hasn't returned in years even when his father was sick, what difference would it make now."
"Maybe he's dying." Sansa suggested casually, then after a moment of silence all three of them looked up worriedly, knowing that if Lord Edmund was dying then that made Gregor lord of Clegane keep.
Beth and Jeyne were terrified, but Sansa knew a little more about the high lords than then and tried to assure her friends, "If Sandor never came back before, it wouldn't matter if lord Edmund was dying, he's the second son, he wouldn't inherit anything so he wouldn't bother coming back." She said, hoping she sounded like she knew what she was talking about.
"So they why would he come back?"
"I don't know." Sansa said irritably, "Maybe they were just passing through and he decided to visit since he was in the area. Quit asking me, I only talked to him for a few minutes!"
They all were silent for another moment before Sansa apologized for her outburst. "Let's just enjoy the day, the sun is shining and the wind is calm. We might not get another day like this for a while. Father says winter is coming."
Tbh one of my dream endings for SanSan is to have the rehabilitated Sandor go to the Vale and find Sansa there. I don't want him to be the one that saves her though, I want him to be there to see her save herself.
I want him to see how she's grown from the little girl he left, how she uses the things she's learned as a political prisoner, and the advice he gave her, to turn Littlefinger's plan on itself and completely destroy him on her own.
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