Prompt was: "Even though he broke his vows with Sansa and won't marry her anymore, Joffrey doesn't want people to think she's free for the taking. So he sets up a new marriage for her. With Gregor."

I'm taking creative liberty with timelines and such and such here. I figure this is clearly AU anyway, so why not?

The Hound was gone, left without her. Stannis' army had been defeated and sent running back to Dragonstone. There was no one to save her, now, Sansa thought. She was all alone in King's Landing and at the mercy of King Joffrey, who was no longer her betrothed. She had never felt her heart soar so high to drop so low, so quickly. She had just been freed from a torturous marriage to Joffrey, but to keep her under the thumb of the Lannisters, Joffrey had announced that she was to be wed to someone else instead; to Gregor Clegane – The Mountain That Rides.

Sansa thought she might die on the spot when she was told who her new husband would be; what would it matter, with Gregor Clegane as a husband, she was as good as dead, considering what had happened to his first two wives. She couldn't stop it though, nothing could be done, ravens had already been sent summoning him to the Red Keep to be wed to the little Stark girl. Even Cersei didn't look pleased with this chain of events… her main priority was to keep Jaime safe and with Joffrey's decision to marry Sansa off to the elder Clegane, the hope that she would remain safe and whole enough to be returned to her family was fading fast. Like the situation with Sansa's own father, though, Joffrey would not be stopped or persuaded upon a different course of action.

It was a few weeks before Gregor arrived at King's Landing. Now that Sansa was betrothed to another, Joffrey didn't want much to do with her, as he seemed to be more preoccupied with Margaery. She spent much of her time with Cersei, at the Queen's request, sewing quietly. She had been told that her maiden's cloak would be taken care of, but that she should sew her bride's cloak herself. So, Sansa sat, day after day, pushing a needle through black and yellow cloth and pretending it was the younger of the Clegane brothers to whom she would be wed.

On the day that Lord Clegane arrived in King's Landing, Cersei had Sansa brought to her chambers to speak.

"You must have impeccable manners at all times when you are in the presence of Lord Clegane," Cersei told her. "He will use any excuse to punish you and he will not be gentle about it. Even if you are perfect, he may find reasons to be cruel for his own amusement. Keep yourself safe and whole Little Dove. Honour and obey him."

Sansa knew that Cersei was only worried about her safety for Jaime Lannister's sake, but she could pretend for the moment that someone actually cared about her enough to give her counsel.

"Certainly your Grace. I shall be carefully guarded at all times around my Lord Husband," Sansa quietly affirmed.

"Good Little Dove. Now tell me, how is your bride's cloak coming along?"

"It's finished your Grace," Sansa said, thinking of the cloak that lay on top of a chest in her room. "When will I be married?"

"This afternoon in the sept. Lord Clegane wishes to take you back to his keep as soon as possible."

Sansa nodded politely, but felt like her insides has frozen in an icy grip. So soon… she was unsure of how long it would take to get from King's Landing to Clegane Keep and she couldn't decide if she'd rather it take no time at all, or forever.

"As such, you should actually go back to your chambers now and have your serving girls ready you for the wedding," Cersei dismissed her and got back to what Sansa supposed were more important matters.

She walked back to her room where Shae had drawn a bath for her. Sansa undressed and got into the water, scrubbing herself clean. Once she had washed, Shae helped her out of the washing tub and helped her dry off.

Sansa was made ready with oils and had her hair done. She was laced into a beautiful dress and her maiden's cloak was placed over her shoulders. She was led to the sept by goldcloaks and saw the man she was to marry for the first time in years. He was no more handsome than he had been before and just as large. Her fingers began to shake as she walked toward him, flanked by guards.

Standing before him, he seemed to look her over. It didn't seem like he had much of a choice in the matter of marrying her, as like his brother, he was loyal to House Lannister, but he didn't seem to disapprove, which Sansa was relieved about. Perhaps if he didn't hate her, he would lessen her suffering. She looked up at him and decided that even with his maimed face, Sandor was the better-looking brother. The Mountain was ugly and mean looking, but at least he had the same eyes as the Hound, Sansa thought. If she could just look him in the eyes, perhaps she would be able to ignore the rest and stomach whatever he did to her.

She stood quiet and still as the septon bound them together and she said her vows when required. His large hands were rough and clumsy when he removed her maiden's cloak and roughly covered her in the bridal cloak she had made with his brother in mind. His mouth was rough and instead of kissing her as he should have, he bit into her lower lip. Sansa flinched a bit as she felt blood gush into her mouth, but didn't make any sound or shows of pain beyond that. Gregor pulled away after that and looked to Cersei.

"Good thing she's not a whiner your Grace. I'd have a hard time keeping up my end of our agreement if she was going to cry out and complain about everything," His voice was deeper and more gravelly than Sandor's; rough and grating. "A quiet and pretty little wife is what you promised… I'll keep her safe to be traded for Ser Jaime."

With that, her new husband jerked her along by the wrist, pulling her out of the sept and back to where his horse was waiting. It was a giant beast, bigger than she'd ever seen and looked mean as his master. Sansa knew that her things had already been packed to go and knew nothing would be left behind at the Red Keep. She was thankful for that small kindness, at least, that her belongings would all come to Clegane Keep with her. Gregor mounted his horse and pulled Sansa on behind him.

"If you fall off, I'll tie you by the wrists and drag you to the Westerlands," he threatened and Sansa held tight to him, knowing he'd probably make good on the promise.

It was several days but not more than a week before they got to his Keep. It seemed a miserable place, devoid of life. It didn't take Sansa long to figure out that it's not that there was no one else there, but that everyone, including the dogs, were hiding from their master. She didn't feel safe with him by any means, but she hoped that Gregor was at least loyal enough to the Lannisters to not kill her.

The morning after they arrived at Clegane Keep, Sansa awoke in bed and pinned down by one of Gregor's heavy arms. It wasn't a gesture of affection so much as him being sure she stayed in bed and under his control until he awoke. Not wanting to anger him, Sansa lay still beneath the heavy weight of his arm, hungry and aching. Her legs hurt, her hips were coloured with bruises she was sure, and the place between her legs where he had bluntly ripped through her maidenhead throbbed and burned in a most unpleasant way.

The night before, he had taken her from behind, unceremoniously picking her up and squeezing bruises into her skin as he pushed himself into her, holding her tightly and thrusting into her without pause for her to get used to the feeling. She had bit her lip in agony the entire time, but had thankfully not cried out. Blood was dripping down her chin and thighs by the time he had spent himself inside of her and tossed her aside like a used rag. No matter how much she had wanted to, she refused to cry herself to sleep and give him a reason to punish her for being weak.

When he finally arose in the morning, Sansa pretended to sleep for a while longer to be certain he was out and wouldn't be coming back any time soon. Gingerly testing her legs, she slowly made her way into the room she had been told would be hers and called for a serving girl to draw her a bath. Sansa undressed and looked down at herself. Her skin was pale and the purple bruises Gregor had left on her stood out brightly against her skin. She could see the serving girl staring at her in pity and she blushed and dismissed her.

Sansa lowered herself into the hot water in the washing tub and quickly began scrubbing at her skin, trying to wash away all of what had happened the night before. It was painful and finally alone in her room, Sansa allowed herself to cry. She didn't have much time alone though. As soon as she had finished bathing, a serving girl was sent to bring her promptly to break her fast with her lord husband. Her stomach clenched and she wasn't hungry at all but she dressed and had the girl look after her hair all the same. When she was presentable as Lady of Clegane Keep, she had her serving girl show her the way to the dining hall where Gregor had already started eating. He glared at her but said nothing. She sat quietly at his side and nibbled at her breakfast. Once he had finished, he commanded everyone but Sansa to leave the hall. She hadn't finished eating, but stopped and looked to him.

"I'll have you once more before I leave for Harrenhal," he told her, and she assumed it meant he would be gone for the wars soon.

"If it please you, my lord," she told him softly.

Sansa felt disconnected from herself as he pushed her against a table and drew up her skirts, exposing her and then ripping off her smallclothes. It still hurt a lot when he thrust roughly into her, but Sansa kept her mouth closed and let him do what he wanted. She thought instead of Sandor and how he would protect her again if he got the chance… she wondered what he'd think of his awful brother having her as his wife – wondered if he would blame her for it. When he had finished, he left her feeling unclean and shameful. She knew she was just doing her duty as his wife, but it felt wrong and she'd never wanted to be his wife anyway.

She righted her clothing and regained her composure before walking out of the hall to see him off as a good wife would. He ignored her and rode away, out of the gates without so much as a glance her way and if Sansa was going to be completely honest with herself, she was glad of it. She hoped he would get himself killed while he was off fighting her own brother's bannermen. Sansa went back inside and up to her room to once again clean herself and then curl up in bed.

"Shame about that pretty little wife of his, they'd only just married, I hear. At least he already put his heir in her belly."

"How'd he die?"

"He's not dead yet, but it'll happen. Poisoned spear, it was. They say you can hear his screams from outside the walls of the Red Keep. Killed the man who stuck him, though. Admitted to raping that princess before killing her first though."

That was what caught his ear. Sandor Clegane should have been keeping his head down and not listening to the conversations of other people. Keep his head down, hide his face, stay out of sight as much as he could. He shouldn't even be in an inn really, but barely any food and weeks on the run and not knowing quite where to go had led him to drop his guard a little and spend some of his tourney winnings on a room and hot food. It had to be Gregor they were speaking of… who else had ever raped a princess and was still alive to admit to it? He looked up to see the men who were speaking. He recognized neither of them and supposed that if he kept his face hidden enough, they probably wouldn't recognize him either.

"The Mountain is dying?" he asked and felt their stares on him, they'd been drinking, though, and clearly weren't smart enough to be suspicious of a stranger who kept his face hidden.

"Yup, killed by a Dornish prince," one of the men said, chuckling. "I was just saying, it really is a waste of a maiden, his wife, they couldn't have been married long. I hear she was pretty before he got his hands on her. Not so sure about now…"

"What wife?" Sandor asked. He knew what had happened to his last two goodsisters and wondered what idiot would marry their daughter to his brother. He voiced the question. "What thinking man would marry a girl to him, knowing as everyone does what happened to his last two wives?"

"Aye, but it wasn't her father that married her off to him, it was the King. Well… the last King, anyway." Sandor had heard of Joffrey's death. "Traitor's daughter she was, no one was like to want her so the King gave her to the Mountain to keep track of."

"Traitor's daughter?" There must be many traitors, Sandor thought. Many traitors to the crown and many of them were certain to have daughters. It couldn't be her, Sandor told himself; Cersei wouldn't let that happen – Sansa was too important to keeping Jaime Lannister safe for them to just pass her off to his brother who was surrounded by mysterious deaths of all sorts.

"The elder Stark girl," the man confirmed and prattled on further, but Sandor heard none of it. His blood was boiling and his stomach started to turn and all he saw was red. He stormed out of the inn and managed not to vomit on himself, at least. Forgetting about food and sleeping somewhere warm, he ran to the stables to re-saddle Stranger.

"Lord Clegane is on his way, you must get up and be presentable."

It was how Sansa was awoken one morning just after dawn had broken. It wasn't long ago that she'd been sent a raven saying the Mountain was grievously injured and she had assumed it was a mortal wound and he'd be kept at King's Landing to die rather than risk moving him. It was a nasty death, the whispers were saying; poison that took weeks to kill. She had hoped to never see him again, but now that he was back, she had to be on her best and hope he didn't last long. She quickly dressed went down to meet him. Hopefully his last living act wouldn't be to kill her. After all, she had done what neither of his other wives had managed; his heir grew in her belly. It felt wrong though. Cersei had told her she would love her children no matter what, but Sansa doubted she could ever love the child growing within her.

She had just reached the doors to the yard, when they burst open. Sansa felt her heart skip a beat as she looked into the face of the man at her doors. Indisputably he was Lord Clegane, but he certainly was not her husband. His chest heaved and he stood staring back at her, stock still in the hall. Her eyes momentarily flicked behind him and saw his great black warhorse still saddled and frothing at the mouth in the middle of the yard. She looked back into his grey eyes, the eyes she'd always pretended she was looking into when she'd looked at Gregor. She didn't even notice until then that her breathing had gone shallow and she started to feel dizzy. Sansa swayed on her feet and the Hound took a few steps toward her.

"Sandor?" she asked. "Have you come to take me away?" Dizziness and darkness overtook her, but she could feel herself fall into his strong arms and she felt herself relax into black unconsciousness.

When Sansa came to, she was in her bed, warmly tucked beneath the covers. She glanced around the room and her gaze settled on the large man sitting in a chair at her bedside. It had not been a dream, and he was unmistakably Sandor Clegane come back to her. She reached and took the hand he'd set on the bed next to her and he looked up and met her eyes. His gaze was stormy and he was sober, but angrier than she'd ever seen him. She frowned a little at his expression. Was he angry with her for being made to marry Gregor?

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't want to… Joffrey made me."

"Joffrey is dead," he growled. "I should have killed him myself. Killed him and taken you away from that hell. I should have killed my brother years ago."

He spat out his words with a fury she'd heard before in his voice, but never this strong. He was furious and if this was what he was like in battle, she had no question in her mind of why he was called the Hound or why men feared him. He looked vicious and seething and she wished he'd calm himself.

"It was none of your fault," she told him quietly.

"All of it was my fault. I should have stolen you whether you'd wanted to go or not."

"But you wouldn't do that. You won't hurt me and to take me against my will would have hurt me," she calmly explained to him. "I wouldn't have gone and there was nothing you could have done. This is not your fault. No matter how much guilt and anger you feel, none of this is because of you."

"Gregor is probably dead by now," Sandor grumbled. "My only want for years was to kill him and someone has stolen even that from me."

Sansa was quiet after that, preferring to let him seethe in silence. He was angry, but at least he had come to her. That must have meant something… didn't it? He came to the place he hated most, knowing his brother wouldn't even be there for him to kill. It was still dangerous for him to be there. They were in Lannister lands… but from fear of his brother, Sansa doubted anyone would tell that Sandor had returned home to Clegane Keep. After all, all they'd have known of him would be his reputation, aside that, no one had seen him since he was a boy.

"Have you come to take me away? Or will you stay?" Sansa finally asked.

"We're not safe here. Cersei must want my head and you no longer have a husband to keep control of you. You will be made to birth the child and then you will be sent back to King's Landing and married off to someone else," he explained. "I'll not take no for an answer this time. This time you'll come away with me… across the Narrow Sea to the Free Cities where I can keep you safe. How does that sound Little Bird?"

"A far better life than I had been expecting lately," she whispered, almost to herself. "And what of the child I carry? It is demon spawn and I don't want it. Will it not be too much of a struggle to travel once I have become big with child?"

"If I could remove it for you, I would," he told her. "Perhaps a maester will have a solution?"

It didn't take very long after she drank the moon tea. It started with stabs of pain in her belly where she knew the baby was. Shortly after the pains started, blood came. Sansa found herself in bed clinging to Sandor's hand as a maester observed to be certain everything went well and she came to no harm. The blood frightened her but the maester assured her it was normal and that the blood came from the child and was not her own life bleeding out. It took a day of bleeding and pain and pushing when she was told. Once it was over, she was tired but felt better that the child was no longer within her. It was dead and Gregor was dead.

There had not been time to stay at Clegane Keep. A raven had been sent to alert them that Sansa would be brought back to King's Landing to have her child and to be with her husband while he was dying. It was not a thing she would have wanted to endure, so before she could be taken from him, Sandor stole away with her in the dead of night. They had gotten as far away as they could from the Westerlands while avoiding places where fighting was prominent. It was a month's careful travel before they reached Gulltown. There, they stayed for a while and found a maester who would rid her of the demon she carried inside.

Sandor ordered her to stay in bed for a few days afterwards until she felt well enough to get up and move about. Once she was well, they found a ship that would take them across the sea to the Free Cities. Sandor paid off the captain and was told they would leave on the morrow just after dawn. Having already paid, they were welcomed to stay on the ship instead of paying for rooms in town.

The entire month long trip they had taken together, Sandor had kept his distance as much as he could. The closest he had allowed himself to get was riding double behind her on Stranger. At every inn they had stayed at, he was sure to book two rooms and when they slept on the ground, he piled his armor between their bedrolls. On the ship, Sansa had expected that they would have two cabins, but was pleasantly surprised to find only one waiting for them when a deck hand took them down to their lodgings. Sandor himself looked none too pleased about it though and left her alone to speak to the captain about it. He came back defeated twenty minutes later and apologized that she would have to share with him for the journey across the sea.

The first few nights alone were awkward; mostly made that way by Sandor himself being strange and distant. On the fifth night, though, Sansa had tired of it. When she got back from the galley, she found him sitting in his berth, quietly contemplating his boots, it seemed.

"Are you displeased that you have come away with me?" Sansa asked him and he looked up, apparently surprised to see her, as if he hadn't heard her come in.

"Not at all."

"You barely speak to me lately. Have I done something wrong?"

"Leave it, Little Bird."

"I will not," she said. "For months you were all I thought of. I so highly regretted not going with you that night when you offered to take me away and keep me safe. Every time I met your brother's eyes, I thought only of how like yours they are; alike enough to pretend that it was you I bedded with. Once he was gone and I was alone with all the décor of House Clegane, I pretended it was you I had married; I fantasized that I was Lady to your Lord and awaited your return home from war. The only thoughts that kept me from tearing that infant out of my belly myself were imaginations of it being your son I carried and hopes that when the child finally came, he would look enough like you that I could forget who his father actually was. You saved my mind Sandor, and then you came and saved me in the flesh and now you'll barely talk to me and I'm supposed to just endure this? How can I when the only reason I have endured what has happened to me is with thoughts of you? What must I do so that you'll return to being normal with me?"

He sat in stunned silence, not looking at her. It took several moments, but he finally looked up and met her eyes. His were full of shaky trust.

"Do you mean it truly?"

"Yes!" she sighed in exasperation. "It has been you that I've wanted all these months. It was awful in King's Landing without you. What Joffrey did to me, of course, but I felt your absence even when I was alone and unbothered by him."

"What do you want from me?" he asked softly, sounding unsure of everything, even himself.

"Only to be yours." She walked to him and sat next to him on the bed. "If you'll have me, that is."

"And you're not bothered by what I am? By what my brother did to you?"

"You are not your bother. I certainly don't think you alike at all… aside from the familial resemblance. You have always been the first to deny being anything like him and you are correct in it." Sansa took his hand and entwined her fingers in his as she spoke, looking into his stormy grey eyes. "All you have ever been with me is honest and gentle and protective. What more could I want in a man? And do not say a handsome, gallant knight. I have had enough of knights for the rest of my life."

"Aye… I'll have you," he spoke quietly and she had to strain to hear his words but once he'd said them, she threw herself into his arms. It was a place she had always felt safe, from the first time he'd ever touched her and she'd mistaken him for her own father. "I'll never be more than an angry brute, but I'll have you if you'll promise to keep me until I get myself killed."

Sansa reached for his cheek and gently brought his lips to hers. She had wondered for months how his mouth would feel against hers and the truth of it was better than she could have imagined it. She pressed herself into his body, pushing him back onto his bed and curling herself against him. Beneath her ear, his heart was pounding a steady rhythm and though she knew he couldn't say it yet, she'd never been more certain that he loved her than in that moment.