Sandor walked in, still clad in his new armor, although it wasn't the Valerian, which he would soon have. Ser Jorah and Ser Barriston were getting their own as well, along with metal pieces to adorn Dany and Lana in.

"Have some wine," she said, motioning to the flagon. The breeze was cold tonight, winter more apparent than ever.

An ominous sign, considering the dark words that Jon Snow brought.

"Won't say no to that," Clegane said, taking a seat, the sound of his giant armor settling in his chair flashing all kinds of memories in her mind from their journeys.

She was about to ask him a question and wondered if she should use his first name. He was very responsive to it, and so far, he hadn't told her not to. She just never heard anyone else use it. She still didn't feel quite right using just his first name, and yet she didn't like calling him Clegane. She settled on both. "What do you want, Sandor Clegane? I know you want more than to grow old as a guard."

He drank his wine, leaned back and said, "You know I don't talk about this shit."

"If this war with the white walkers is real, I don't want you stuck here when you want to be elsewhere."

"So, I save your life, and now you want me gone?"

"No, I don't, actually. I just...I won't make it long. Did a lot of thinking. Coming close to death does that to you, no matter how many times it happens. It made me realize that you almost got away from all of this, and stayed away, in that village with Ray. You chose to stay for a reason. I want to make sure that when you desire to return to that, you can, versus just stay here with me on this island."

He was silent, and his face wasn't angry. He was really considering her words.

"Might go serve the brotherhood," he finally said with a calm tone.

"What?" she asked, doing poorly to hide her displeasure.

"You asked what I wanted," he chided, then drank more wine.

"As in, soon? They'd be far north by now."

He nodded, not looking at her. "Might go with the northern bastard to help with whatever is north of the wall. Bet the Brotherhood is heading for whatever is up there. Thoros always yammered on about it. Might stay with them when we return."

Her heart sank. "What? Are you serious?"

He looked her dead in the eye. "You are right. I don't want to serve for forever. It's in my nature to protect, but my years of service are behind me. Aye, I stayed in that village for a reason. I wanted to be my own man. And now, I want to help with whatever the fuck is coming. This is bigger than all of us. I don't want to sit around like a twat, drinking wine next to a fire, while other men die for this world."

"What about me?"

"You have a sister with three dragons," he said and looked away.

"What if I don't want you to go away? At least not yet."

"You asked what I wanted," he scolded, his eyes hard and cold, but the longer their eyes connected, the more he relented in his fervor. For a few, long moments, they just stared, and she started to see a semblance of concern, and even care, in his eyes. As much as he could give, anyway. Then he looked ahead once more and said, "I can't stay here forever. I got you safely here, and now it's time for me to go. The sooner I leave, the better for both of us."

Well this blew up in my face. Although Lana knew it was the right thing. His time was done being a glorified bodyguard.

And yet, hearing him confirm that decision really brought her spirits down. Without him, this would become a very dull life. She relied on him to keep things normal, and she looked forward to being near him every day, always a buzz of nerves rife in her belly. She had expected him to take some time to consider this decision, not make a sweeping one this quickly.

Why couldn't he be like Jorah and stay around no matter what?

But as soon as she wondered that, she knew she didn't want that. It's what Lana liked about Sandor. He was his own man, and he'd do what he wanted.

She looked to his hand that lied on the table, large and threatening, like that of a hardy man. She breathed quicker, her nerves on edge as she got the idea.

Jon Snow was leaving in the morning. She might as well try for it.

Lana placed her hand on his, and it was warm and robust. He glared at her while she stared at the hand that was in hers, and she could see in her peripheral that his glare was a warning. And yet, he didn't remove his hand.

She eventually looked up, meeting his brown eyes, and she could nearly hear his voice in her head asking 'what the fuck are you doing?'

Her gaze was just as unwavering.

"If you must go, I won't stop you," she said, trying her best to relay her emotions in her eyes.

His chest rose and fell as he took in a long draw of air, his gaze unrelenting. She looked back down to his hand. It was well-used with scars and clearly strong. There was something to a man's hands that really struck Lana, and she imagined that it was the same thing men had for the softness of a woman's skin or the smell of her hair.

Clegane's arms and hands had always drawn her in, wondering what it would be like to be encased in them, or held down.

She sighed and went to pull away, feeling her carnal need for that kind of affection starting to take over her mind.

As she pulled, his hand clasped hers, and her heart hammered in her chest almost instantly. His grip was firm, and yet she could tell that he was barely holding on. She looked up but saw he was looking at her hand now. They were even rougher on his palm side.

She imagined that he wanted to grab her, lift her skirts, and take her right then and there on the table. By the look in his eye, he was indeed struggling to control himself.

She breathed deeper, as she desperately wanted that.

His grip tightened, just ever so, and it was enough to send a pleasant chill slithering through her veins Gods did she want him to grip her with those hands, to hold her still while he filled her with every inch of him.

The thought of Clegane leaving Lana along in these giant halls with maids, servants, and soldiers just felt so wrong.

She couldn't let him leave without being close to him. She had to give him a reason to come back.

She rose from her seat and walked around the table, and he let go of her hand, his breathing growing heavier. He had that look in his eye when he was about to fuck someone up, but this was laced with desire, not murder.

As soon as she was within his reach, he sat up from his slouch, grabbed her, and pulled her into his lap. She gave in, letting him control her with a grip that locked her to him. She neared his face, pressing her lips on his, the light scruff scratching her chin and cheeks, her nose pressed into his skin as they kissed. His breath was hot. His hands pressed so hard into her skin that he was nearly pulling at it when he glided them over her.

He reached under her skirt, his rough hand grazing her bare thigh as it ran up her outer leg. She moaned into the kiss, and he growled in return, gripping the outside of her thigh hard. He was feeling her all over, kissing her, keeping her in his arms all to himself. She wasn't leaving his grip until he let her go, and that power exchange revved something deep and primal in Lana.

She placed a hand in his hair, gripping it, and his hand rose higher, cupping her ass, sliding his hand over her leg so it was on top of her thigh.

Their breathing grew more intense, along with their touches, which pulled against one another. Their kiss intensified, their tongues now brushing against one another and the other's lips. She wanted him. She wanted him all over her, and inside of her. She wanted to watch him fuck her and see that pleasure on his face.

Eventually she was able to reposition herself, his hold on her giving way when he realized what she was doing. She placed a leg on either side of him, straddling him. He groaned hard into her mouth, both of his hands running up her thighs, gripping her ass once more.

Their motions were reckless now, crossing from touching and kissing, to exploring what came next.

One of his hands slid down her rear and onto the back of her thigh, regripping to the inside of her thigh. He nearly grazed the area that she desperately wanted him to touch. She leaned into his touch, begging him to touch her further.

Everything changed in him. She thought he had growled before, but this time the sound that escaped him was more guttural as he stroked her between her thighs, feeling the mess that he created. His other hand gripped the back of her neck as he pulled her tight into a kiss while he reached a finger inside of her. She clenched tight, never having felt another man inside of her, even in that regard

She grinned into the kiss and relaxed her muscles, wanting more of him. "Just fuck me already," she said into the kiss.

He chuckled darkly, and just as he pulled his finger out of her to grip her hips and pick her up, a knock came to the door. Fuck.

They paused, parted their kiss and panted, noses nearly touching the other. She looked Sandor Clegane in the eyes, which were full of an unleashed hunger and emotion. Then the knock came again, and he rolled his eyes.

"It is Lord Varys, my lady. Your sister has sent me to request you, in lieu of the Maester," the voice said through the door. Sure enough, it sounded just like him.

Clegane rose from his seat, Lana still in his arms, and he placed her down with a gentleness that she had been desperate to see him from him. He couldn't leave, not when she just finally got a glimpse at what she wanted.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "One moment," she said, dropping her hand to straighten her robes. Clegane finished his cup of wine and slammed it on the table.

"Might as well take the rest and enjoy it," Lana said.

"Won't enjoy shit except for sore balls," he said severely. He looked her over, his eyes angry and full of hunger, his lip lightly sneering as he looked away.

She felt the same way. "It's not my choice. Trust me, I'd rather you fuck me right now."

Clegane huffed. "Don't say that shit. It just makes this worse," he said with a groan and went for the door, opening it, to which the Varys jumped and said with curious eyes, "Well, am I interrupting something?"

"Get the fuck out of my way," Clegane threatened, and like that, he was gone.

"Well, Lady Lana," Varys said. "I take it you know that harboring soldiers in your quarters, at this hour, does not give the best impression?"

Lana had no reply to that, knowing it didn't matter what she said.

"Some advice?" Varys asked. "Your hair is tossed, and yet your bed is made. Either ruffle the bed to make it appear you woke up or straighten your hair, otherwise we can only assume it was from the grumpy soldier in here just moments ago. Although, I supposed an unruffled bed is a good thing. Most lords in these lands won't want to marry the dragon that was soiled by the hound."

This time, Lana huffed herself, her nerves frayed, but no retort came. She liked the sound of the hound soiling the dragon, her mind unable to let go of him.

In a way, he had soiled her. If she had never met Clegane, she wouldn't be questioning anything right now.

The next morning, Lana got word that more men had volunteered to join Jon Snow, and that they were leaving the following day. Of course, the one man she cared about had volunteered as well. After Lana dressed, she opened her door and saw Clegane wasn't there.

His absence meant more than anything, hitting her square in the chest that he was no longer in her services.

She spent the better half of her morning searching for him, finding him in the halls.

"You really are going north, beyond the wall. With Snow and the others," she said as she approached him, her voice lightly quivering.

"Aye," he said with a curt nod, not bothering to stop as he continued to walk through the halls.

She stood in front of him and he stopped, not sure what took over her. "You are supposed to stay here and protect me," she said, not sore that she lost him as a guard, but it was the first excuse she came up with.

His tone was back to the usual condescending one. "Someone will always be around to protect you," he said with little care.

"I want you to protect me," she said, realizing that even with him leaving, she still couldn't find the gall to say the words.

Those words, however, were enough for now and seemed to mean something to him, and before he looked away, she caught a glimpse of raw emotion in those guarded eyes.

She took a step closer, pressing that matter further. "I need you here. You saved me from the attack. Did you forget that already? I'd be dead without you. It could happen again."

"That was a freak occurrence. You know I can't stay, Lana," he said, not looking at her, gently pushing her aside.

He was seemingly doing everything he could to avoid her, but she grabbed his arm. His body went rigid, and the danger of Sandor Clegane was apparent, but the way his muscles relaxed when he looked down to her told her everything she needed to know. He wanted to leave, and she was making this difficult. Let alone how close they had gotten the previous night. "What if you don't come back?" she asked, her voice quiet.

"Then you'll find a husband and be the Lady of Dragonstone. It's what's going to happen anyway. And I don't want to be around for that shit. I am not living my fucking life leaving a room when the spider knocks. If I want to fuck a woman, then I am going to fuck her. Not with you, though. And we can't change that," he said, his brown eyes hard and clearly trying to hold back whatever bubbled underneath.

"If I am a true lady, then I'll do whatever I want to do," she said, letting go of him.

He scoffed. He gave her one last look that had more care than hate in it, blinking slowly. "Not when it comes to marriage and alliances. It's the whole damned point to you being here."

He turned around before she could say anything. She lost the battle with him. She watched him walk away, terrified of what was going to happen to him, to Westeros, to everything.

It wasn't until she saw the ships sail away that she felt the full force of what that meant. Sandor was no longer in the castle, and the further that ship sailed, the further away he was. If she ever saw him again, it would be weeks, if not months.

She walked out in the gardens as her chest felt numb, noticing a few flakes of snow as she walked among the pines and cranberry bushes.