Work Text:
Sandor
He held her broken bloody body in his arms while he screamed. He had never felt so unable to control his emotions as he did in this moment. He wanted to kill the Maester for letting her die. He wanted to rip the buggering fool apart with his bare hands. He leapt from the bed, his rage overwhelming him. He found the wall instead of the Maester and beat his hands upon it. He punched the stones until his hands were broken and bloody.
He turned and screamed for some wine. He needed to drink, he needed to feel numb. A tiny servant girl scurried toward him with a horn. He laughed at them, did they think sending this little scrap of a girl would calm his rage. He drank the wine down in two gulps, only realizing too late, as the wine was going down his throat, that they had added milk of the poppy.
When he woke, he found his broken hands cleaned and bandaged. Sansas body had been taken from the room, along with the tiny stillborn son she had died for.
******
Two days later she was buried. Sandor picked a beautiful spot near a large oak tree. He wished for a weirwood to have her rest beneath, but there were none near the grounds of Clegane Keep. He would have to see if he could have one planted. His Little Bird would have liked that.
After the funeral he returned to the Keep, only to find as many skins of wine he could carry. He walked back to her grave and settled himself against the tree, and piled the skins next to him. He quickly drank the first and sat and stared at the mound of dirt that now covered his wife and son.
At dusk the stable boy was sent to fetch him but he scared him away with a growl. Sometime in the night the Maester came, but he threw an empty wine skin and threatened to kill him if he came back. At daybreak a serving girl bearing a tray of food arrived but he sent her away as well. They stopped coming after that.
******
After the second day of his vigil, he woke to the sounds of footsteps. He must have dozed, or passed out. He smelled stale vomit and piss. He vaguely thought that he should feel embarrassed but he just felt numb. He struggled to sit up when he heard a soft voice. "Clegane?" He didn't need to turn. He recognized her voice.
"What are you doing here wench?" He mumbled to Brienne. He glanced over at her when she was beside him. She wore plain breeches and a soft flowy tunic. She looked odd without her armor.
"Jaime and I were visiting Tyrion at Casterly Rock when we heard. We rode as soon as we could."
He snorted, the Kingslayer and the Imp as well it seemed. "Why did you come?"
"I wanted to pay my respects to the Lady Sansa." Brienne said sadly.
"Pay them then and leave." He barked, looking for a skin that wasn't yet empty. He found one and drank deeply.
Brienne watched him for a moment, then stepped away to the grave and stood silently for a time. He was dozing some more when he felt her hand on his shoulder. "Will you return with me?" she said softly.
He shook his head no. "Think I'll stay and have another drink." He laughed at Briennes frown.
"Sansa wouldn't want you to mourn her this way." she said "She would want to be remembered with love."
"Because I'm known thru out the seven kingdoms for how much I love." he rasped attempting to drink from the almost empty skin. He threw it aside in anger.
"Everyone knows how much you loved her." She knelt then and took his hand.
He stared at her for a few moments before shaking his head. He pulled away from her and crawled closer to the grave. He stared at the fresh dirt for so long, he was surprised when he heard Brienne move behind him. He had almost forgotten she was there. "I did love her." he mumbled "I never loved anything or anyone, not since I was a boy, before I was burned. My mother and sister. They both passed while I was recovering from my burns." He motioned to the other side of the keep. "They are both resting over by the hillside."
Brienne touched his shoulder again, but he jerked away. "I loved her back when she was barely a women, back when she still belonged to Joffrey. I think I loved her the first day I saw her at Winterfell, standing there with her family. I can't remember not loving her."
"She knew how much you loved her." Brienne said her words soft and comforting.
"Did she? I have been sitting here, and I can not remember telling her. Not even once. It is three simple words. Three unspoken words that could have made all the difference to her. I can not remember." He held his face in his hands.
"Sometimes a mans actions speak louder than words. You of all men should understand that. Is that not your reason for never taking knightly vows?"
"Aye, I spoke my vows to her. Only to her, and look how it ended. I spoke my vows to her, and then I killed her."
"She died in childbirth, it was not your fault."
"Wasn't it? I put the babe inside her. I never wanted a family. Never allowed myself to even dream of a wife and children. I would have been the happiest man alive just having her by my side. She wanted children. She made it sound so wonderful. She wanted her fairytale ending, and she made me believe in it as well."
"Come back to the keep with me, let me help you." Brienne pleaded with him.
"You want to help me, give me the gift of mercy." He laughed when her eyes went wide. "Your a warrior, you know where the heart is." He pulled his small dagger from his belt and handed it to her. "Put me down like the rabid dog I am."
"No, you just need to be strong..." she started before he cut her off with a growl.
"Then send your pretty boy out here. He has slain a king, a dog should be easy work."
"No one will come out here to kill you." She said stubbornly. He stood and stumbled away from the grave back to the tree.
"Your wrong. She will come. I'll wait for her. It will be fitting for her to finish me." He leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes.
"Who will come?" Briennes voice was soft, she seemed far away.
"The little wolf. With her little sword. When she hears her sister has died, she will come. She refused me before, but she wont this time. I think I'll just sit here and wait for the little wolf."
******
It was two days later before anyone approached him again. He was weak from hunger and thirst. He struggled to sit and looked up to see the man looking down at him. Sandor struggled to lift his hand to his face to block the suns glare, attempting to figure out if what he was seeing was real.
"I thought your days at the Quiet Isle had cured your lust for the drink Sandor." The soft calming voice of the Elder Brother asked.
Sandor looked around at all the empty wine skins. "Aye, I seemed to have suffered a bit of a relapse." he mumbled.
"I never imagined I would find you dying beneath a tree again."
"Not dying, already dead. My body is just too stubborn to obey." he said.
The Elder Brother walked a few steps to Sansas grave. He prayed silently for a few, then made the sign of the Seven over the site, before returning to sit next to Sandor.
"What are you doing here, Brother? The Quiet Isle is a far ride from here." Sandor asked finally.
Elder Brother smiled at him. "The gods have ways to show us where we are needed. Just as they sent me to you before. They have a plan for you, whether you choose to believe it or not."
"She was my reason." He gestured to the grave. "She was my only reason to keep living."
"I am truly sorry I never got to meet your Lady. From all I have heard, she was an exceptionally kind and beautiful woman."
Sandor nodded. "She was too good for the likes of me. A dog shouldn't have nice things."
"The Gods saw fit to reunite her with her family. She is in the heavens now, looking upon you. She would want to know you are well."
"Fuck your Gods for taking her. My son too. I felt him kick beneath her skin, he was strong. The Gods saw fit to strangle him with the cord while she labored. The Gods didn't need them both."
Elder Brother was silent for a time. "Perhaps she was not strong enough to leave this world alone. Now in the heavens she has a part of you with her. She will never truly be parted from you."
Sandor sat quietly listening to the wind blow thru the leaves above him. When the Elder Brother finally stood and offered his hand to him, he took it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, and finally lead back to the keep.
******
He was packing a bag to take to the Quiet Isle. It was hard to be in the room they shared, but all his clothing was here and he didn't want some servant to pack for him. He wanted to be alone with his memories for a time. He opened the wardrobe where all of Sansas dresses hung. He considered taking one with him, pulling a soft gray wool sleeve toward his face and inhaling her scent. But then the thought of seeing her gown and knowing it would never cover her body again made his chest hurt, so he closed the door and walked away.
He approached her dressing table, and slowly ran his hands across the various bits of jewels and items that laid there. He recognized most of them, could picture her wearing the jade earrings, the silver bird pendant, the shell hairpins. He opened a drawer and saw a pale blue ribbon. He held it in his hands, the silk fabric soft against his healing fingers. Beneath it was a gray lace one. He took them both and put them in his pocket, before shutting the drawer.
He retrieved his small bag from the bed and went to leave the room before he saw it. Hanging on the wall was the tapestry she had recently completed. The first of many she planned to make. It was yellow silk, with a grey dire wolf running toward a black dog. He ran his fingers across the perfect stitches for a moment, before taking it down. He rolled it up and placed it in his bag before leaving the room forever.
He found Stranger saddled for him in the yard. Brienne was there talking with the Elder Brother. He spotted Jaime Lannister nearby sparring with her squire Podrick. He watched for a few minutes, noting that the Kingslayer was getting good with his left hand. Part of him longed to pick up a sword and challenge him, but he was anxious to be on his way.
Brienne walked to his side while he tied his bag to Strangers saddle. "Lord Tyrion wanted me to tell you something. He received a raven just this morning from the Umbers. Great Jon said he would be honored to send some Weirwood saplings from his Godswood to plant for Sansa."
Sandor nodded his head. "Thank him for me." he mumbled.
Brienne startled him then by embracing him. He was stiff for a moment before finally patting her on the back in return. "Are you sure about leaving?" she asked.
"He gave me a reason to live once before." Sandor nodded briefly to Jaime Lannister before he mounted Stranger. He supposed he would have to go back to calling him Driftwood once they reached the Isle. As they left the grounds he was surprised to find himself looking back toward his childhood home. He knew he would never return again, and it was only the memory of his life with Sansa that made him take a final look. A moment later he turned away, ready to face his new life.