"- First: Sir Sandor Clegane will be the Queen's husband, never King in the North. He will have all his needs met, but he will have no right to anything, like himself. If the marriage breaks down, he will have to leave Winterfell alone with his current possessions .
- Second: Never, under any circumstances, Sir Sandor Clegane may be part of the Council of the North.
-Third: in the event of the death of the Queen in the North, Lady Sansa Stark, she will never be able to occupy the throne. The future King will be appointed by the lords of the North.
- Fourth: the heirs born from the union of Lady Sansa Stark, Queen in the North, and Sir Sandor Clegane, will be heirs of the North as long as they are chosen by the council of the lords of the north.
-Fifth: (comes from four), in case any of his sons, Sir Sandor Clegane, are appointed King in the North, he will not be able to exert any influence on the government of the kingdom, at the risk of being expelled from Winterfell. "
The three members of the Council who had brought him the paper were waiting for him to sign, with the face of few friends. Sandor knew without a doubt that they were among those who had written "those capitulations".
He read the paper carefully two more times, enjoying the annoyed glances of the emissaries.
Not that he was hesitant to sign. He cared very little what those bastards asked of him. The important thing was to be with Sansa. First because she was his life ... and second because a miracle had just happened and although he still couldn't assimilate it, he was never going to leave her alone in that trance ... but ... even so, he couldn't help wondering. How the hell was he going to be a father? He? Father? ... he closed his eyes and rubbed his brow ... at the growls of protest from those who waited.
He picked up the pen and slowly approached the paper. He couldn't even imagine raising a child, although Sansa kept mentioning Arya ...
"- no matter how hard you try, you adopted her. You cared for her and took care of her, in your own way ...- she had said to him, when he brought out his genius to not accept the situation-. This pregnancy has been a miracle ... both for your situation and for mine .. "
That was true.
He, a warrior, who did not have an inch of body without a wound ... and she a woman who had been, mistreated and sullied ...
At the thought of this he dropped the pen, hearing them hold their breath again. Sandor still hurt just thinking about it. He could kill Ramsey a thousand times, and still he wouldn't be satisfied.
He sighed, picking up the pen again. It had been a miracle, without a doubt ... he would have to accept it, once and for all, and consider the belated paternity, but above all, that Sansa did not suffer more than normal ... She was the important thing .
He read the paper again, looking out of the corner of his eye as his companions closed their desperate eyes, and then he signed as calmly as he could.
-That's it ... Everything is correct ... I am nobody for the North ...- he told them while he handed them the letter.
One of them took it and checked the signature. Then he stared at him and smiled.
- I think you have understood everything perfectly..
Without waiting for anything else, they got up and left the Winterfell hall, while Sandor watched them, wanting to do to them the same as to a certain son of a butcher ...
He turned and stared at the flames in the fireplace that warmed the spacious room. They were going to be difficult days.
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Wounds (Sansa & Sandor)
Fanfiction... what if the Hound had not died when consummating his revenge?" Sansa and Sandor
