It is always during the velvet black of night when he comes to her. Illuminated by the eery green glow of Wildfire, the room fills with his presence, his shadow slowly approaches her. He's so close; she feels him rather than sees him. Closer still...she smells his masculine scent; it's almost as if she is able to taste him now.

Gripping her chin with his large hand, his huge form leans over her body and pins her to the mattress, his knees resting on either side of her hips. His deep gray eyes meet hers; she recoils from the rage she finds there. "I could keep you safe. No one will touch you or I'll kill them," his words roll like distant thunder in her ears.

The smell of smoke, wine and blood permeate the night air surrounding them. His eyes reflect in the darkness like the Hound he is. She is too afraid to move and too afraid to look away. "I'll have that song, Little Bird," he rasps, his voice as harsh as metal scaping across stone.

His breath burns hot against her cheek, the smell of wine filling her nose as he speaks. Sharp whiskers from his beard scratch her neck as he moves closer to her still. 'Is he going to kiss me?' Her mind races. The deafening sound of her own heart beat drums in her ears; she's certain he can hear it as close as they are now.

His takes in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her hair. The massive muscles of his thighs and arms press her deeper into the bed and Sansa feels strong arms pulling her body close to his chest, grinding the hardness of his manhood into her thigh.

Trying to gasp for air beneath him, Sansa's chest heaves as she struggles to control her breathing. Her developing breasts strain against the bodice of her gown, drawing his eyes away from her face as his heated gaze slowly takes in her figure, the sight of her drawing his lips into a wicked grin.

He radiates heat everywhere...his eyes and his body fills her with his warmth. Igniting fire everywhere their bodies touch, Sansa is powerless to resist him...and wouldn't even try if she could, the feeling is so delicious. Spreading slowly throughout her body his heat consumes her, sending a rush of wetness surging to her thighs. She is unable to resist squirming beneath him; he growls low at the feeling of her body rubbing against his.

Her movements only encourage him; he presses down even tighter against her in response, his large swollen member pressing urgently against her woman's place; Sansa gasps as she continues wiggling against him. They lie flush together now; both of their bodies drenched in sweat. Deep rumbling laughter echoes in his chest, filling her own body with its sound.

Fear and desire parch her throat; weakly she begins her song to him-the Mother's Hymn, not Florian and Jonquil as he requested. His chest expands against her breasts as he draws in a deep breath. Sighing softly he relaxes, soothed by the sound of her voice.

Instinctively her hand moves to his cheek, cupping it tenderly while she finishes her song. His tears wet her hands as she strokes his face. "Little Bird," he rasps low. Sansa feels the words he speaks, the sound of his voice filling what little space remains between them. "Sandor," she whispers softly. His entire body shivers at the sound of her speaking his name. "Please...please take me away from here. I want to be with you, always."

Sansa awakens with a start, damp sheets clinging to her. A cold sweat has soaked her nightgown; her woman's place is wet and thobbing with unquenched desire. Bitter tears well in her eyes as the familiar sight of her rooms at the Eyrie come into view. She has longed for him since the night the Blackwater burned. For the past few months her heart and body painfully ache for him. The night frees her of her unremitting grief; each morning brings the bitter realization it was only a dream. Sandor Clegane will only visit her in these fevered dreams now, for the Hound is dead.

It has been a fortnight since word reached the Eyrie while she and Petyr broke their fast that fateful crisp autumn morning. Lady Brienne of Tarth visited them with the news. Podrick Payne, Tyrion's former squire accompanied her on the long journey. A highborn female knight, Lady Brienne was the first and only of her kind. Sansa had never seen a female knight. Arya instantly sprang into her mind; she would love to meet Lady Brienne. She was a startling combination of many things-large and strong yet kind and gentle. Sansa took an instant liking to her.

Returning from their visit to the Quiet Isle, she decided to inform the Lord Protector of the Vale of the Hound's death; she had slain the imposter the so-called butcher of Saltpans. The Elder brother had told her the Hound had been buried on the Quiet Isle for the past four months; Sandor was now at peace.

Brienne told the story with a delicacy Sansa was surprised to discover in the battle hardened woman. Sansa's stomach heaved and the blood drained from her face as Brienne spoke. The strain of hiding her true identity and the constant fear of living with Lord Baelish coupled with the knowledge Sandor was gone forever finally took its toll in one horrific moment.

Violently plunging into the black chasm, overpowering grief robbed of Sansa of her strength and her will to live the moment Brienne's words fell on her ears. Fighting to conceal her immense pain, she vomitted right at the table before fainting dead away, much to Brienne's distress and Petyr's disgust.

She remained abed for four days and neither slept nor ate, consumed in darkness. Sandor had found peace at last while her own hell continues onward. A never ending cycle of misery has been her life for over a year now with no end in sight.

Survival was her primary goal ever since Joffrey held her captive in the Red Keep; the unbearable knowledge she will never see Sandor again is her only focus now. Sandor is dead and her opportunity to tell him of the love she discovered for him on the night of the battle was now buried alongside him somewhere on the Quiet Isle.