Got One-Shots Book 2

A Storm of White and Red (Sandor Clegane x fem!Stark reader)

(Part 5 of "The Wolf's Storm" series. Parts 1-4 are in my other GoT book. Possible slight spoilers!)

You breathed a sigh of relief when Winterfell came into view. "Missed it, did ya?" Sandor asked from behind you. You chuckled and nodded. "That I did." You glanced up at him and leaned up slightly to kiss him. Your mission to find houses to fight with your family had been only somewhat successful and you were ready to return home.

Sansa greeted you with Petyr Baelish and Brienne of Tarth at her side. She grinned at you, but her smile dropped when she saw Sandor behind you. Sandor dismounted Stranger and helped you down. You ran over and pulled Sansa close. "What is the Hound doing with you?" You narrowed your eyes slightly. She spoke about him with slight disgust and a little fear. You hated that.

"We'll talk later. Where's Jon?" Your question was answered by Jon himself. He called out your name and came bounding down the steps. "I'm so glad you're safe," he whispered as he pulled you to him. Sandor kept his watchful eye on you. It wasn't that he didn't trust your siblings, but he certainly didn't trust Petyr and only barely trusted Brienne. After all, she'd tried to kill him.

Jon let you go and glanced at Sandor. You looked over your shoulder at Sandor and smiled. You backed away from Jon and walked over to your love. Jon nodded at Sansa, who left with her guards. "Are you here as an ally or an enemy?" Jon asked Sandor. In answer, Sandor wrapped an arm around you and you smiled again. "Most definitely as an ally, Jon."

Jon hummed and looked deep in thought. You could tell he was trying to decide whether or not to trust Sandor. However, he saw the look on your face. It was one of pure and unadulterated love. "Good. We need all the allies we can get. Winter is here and war is coming." Your brows furrowed. "From the Lannisters?" Jon shook his head and frowned. "Something much worse. The Army of the Dead."

Your eyes widened in shock and fear. If the Night King got his army past the Wall, Westeros would fall. Everyone would die. You looked up at Sandor. His eyes were focused on Jon in front of him and he nodded. Even without a word, you knew he'd just agreed to fight. Sucking in a breath, you took a step away from Sandor. "I need to rest," you muttered and left the two men in the courtyard.

Only when you were safely inside your chambers did you finally break down and cry. You knew Jon needed every sword he could get, but the thought of Sandor fighting the White Walkers was almost too much to bear. You sank down on the bed and let your tears fall.

You were only able to cry for a few minutes before there was a knock on your door. Drying your eyes as best you could, you called out for whoever it was to come in. The door opened and the entrance was soon filled with Sandor's large form. "What in Seven Hells are ya cryin' about?" You glared up at him. "You should know, Sandor."

He stepped fully into the room and closed the door. "Well I don't or I wouldn't have asked. Now what is the matter with ya?" You stood and crossed your arms over your chest. "I just got you back, Sandor. I thought you were dead for so long and now, here you go again, running toward certain death! I can't lose you again!"

Sandor sighed and ran his hand down his face. He walked over and sat down on the bed. He gently grabbed your hips and pulled you close to him. You were eye to eye now and he nudged your nose with his. "It's gonna take a lot more than some frozen bastards ta kill me and ya know it," he whispered. You pulled back a little. "Please, Sandor. Don't go." You felt more tears coming, but Sandor shushed you.

"Y/N, ya know I have ta. I may die. I won't lie ta ya about that. But if I don't fight, we will all die, includin' ya. I don't want that." You couldn't reply because you knew he was right. "Damn you," you muttered and he chuckled. He gave your hips a little squeeze and you sighed. You kissed him deeply, wanting to relish what could possibly be your last days together.

"Promise me you'll come back," you said when your lips parted. "I promise ta do everythin' in my power ta come back ta ya. That's the best I can do." You nodded before touching your forehead to his. "I love you, Sandor." He pulled you so you were sitting on his lap. He kissed you again before whispering back, "I love ya too, Y/N."

*time skip*

You heard the cheers of the few lucky survivors. The Great War had been raging for years, but finally, it was over. The Army of the Dead had miraculously been defeated. You let yourself smile as you gazed around the battlefield. That smiled dropped when you didn't see the one person you were hoping to.

Your heart began to race. Where was he? You saw Jon and Davos. You even saw Brienne and Jaime Lannister, but Sandor was nowhere to be found. "No," you silently cried. You began scanning the field. The blanket of white snow was stained with red, the blood of the fallen. Your eyes looked over the battlefield, desperate to find Sandor.

"Y/N?!" you heard Jon call. He knew exactly who you were searching for. You raced over to Jon, jumping over and avoiding the bodies of the White Walkers and your fallen allies. Jon waited for you to get to him. Then, he looked down at the ground. Sandor was there. Your hands began to shake and you sank to your knees in the snow, ignoring the fact that Sandor's blood was seeping into the knees of your trousers. "No, no, no."

You placed your hands on Sandor's face. It was still slightly warm, but also chilly from the cold winter air. You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You wanted to curse everyone and everything around you. "You bastard," you said softly, "You promised me." Then, it happened. Sandor groaned.

"I keep my promises," he moaned out and you laughed. Jon gave your shoulder a squeeze and smiled down at you. "Let's get him to a tent and warm him up." You nodded and let several men help Sandor get back to camp and into a tent. You fought with the Maester to stay with Sandor. You absolutely refused to leave his side and with one harsh look from you, the Maester shut up.

"You scared me, Sandor," you admitted softly when the Maester finished assessing and cleaning Sandor's wounds. You went to work cleaning the rest of his face and body off. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would do until you could get back to Winterfell. "'M sorry." You smiled at kissed his chapped lips. "You'll just have to make it up to me." Sandor chuckled and then hissed in pain. "Sorry, love," you told him.

"You'll just have ta make it up ta me," he threw your words back at you and you smirked. "I think I can handle that. When you've got your strength back." Sandor reached up and took your hand. "When I'm at full strength, I want ta make ya my wife. I never want ta think about losin' ya again. We've done it too many times ta count." You grinned. Not the perfect proposal, but you certainly weren't going to complain. "I'll gladly be your wife, Sandor."