Chapter I

It was a long winter's night. The air was sharp with an icing cut to it, and all around was as silent as the dead. All I kept thinking to myself was, 'I hope he is safe, somewhere out of this winters night'. Sometimes I would sit at the stone ledge of the window, even though it was cold, I simply laid more furs over me. I wanted to keep watch day and night for any sign of his return. She remembered that night he left with Thoros of Myr and Beric Dondarrion what he had said to her, 'Worry not little bird, I'll not be far from your side again. I'm making sure no harm will come to you or your little wolf sister. Once this long winter is over, and those foul bastards are sent back to their snowy graves for good, I'll be back here, at your side'. Now she feared he may have joined those ''foul bastards'', for it had been several weeks without word or sight of anything.

The only comfort I felt were the warmth of the blankets, the furs, the open fire that was kept lighting all day, with trees being cut down more and more to keep everyone within the walls of Winterfell from freezing to death. Never had I seen a winter so cold and cruel, and it was only a week before, a poor infant passed away from it's bitter touch. My thoughts and symptahies laid heavy with the mother as she had lost her husband only months earlier. Now, my thoughts were consumed with the one person who mad me feel safe and alive, and he was out there in that darkness and terror. I laughed at my memories of all those years ago when I had been no more than a child and him a big brutish man, serving the boy king I was to marry. How those years have changed us both, and the time he came to my families house to offer his sword and service to my family name; and to me.

I couldn't sleep this night, so my mind went back to all those memories buried in the deep crevices of the past. I remember the night of the Blackwater, the night Sandor had been in my room. I remember him asking me to come with him, to take me home, keep me safe. Many times since then I had wondered what would have been if I had chosen to accompany the then, hound. What an utter halfwit I had been when I think back to my past regressions. At least he was honest - a hound never lies after all.

As I sat staring out the frosted glass of my bedroom window, I looked over to the fire, thinking how inviting it appeared after hours of looking into the whiteness of the land outside. Taking the blankets and furs, I found a spot by the open fire, adding a couple more logs to rekindle to dying embers. Feeling melancholy, staring oblivious into the flames, I found myself looking around the room for no particular reason until my eyes fell upon my cedar chest. It was no surprise after all this time, I still thought of him when I looked at a cedar chest, where I had kept his bloody white cloak in the chest in King's Landing. Then I remembered his letters. Letters he had began to write to me a year after pledging his loyalty and sword. The first letter was short, and nothing of true note. Sandor simply wrote on a small piece of parchment his thanks and gratitude.

My Lady,

I want to offer my gratitude for having given me a chance to prove my loyalty. I will keep you safe little bird, a promise I intend to hold from this day until my last.

Sandor of House Clegane, sworn sword and protector of Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell.

I had read that letter more times than I remember, maybe because it was the first he had ever wrote me, the first time he seemed like a true knight in his words. He was never truly poetic with his words day to day, but their were those rare times he would leave myself and others thinking about what he had said. For a long time when I was younger, he had frightened me terribly. It was never his face, with all the burnt side or his scowling, it was his anger. He always seemed one flicker away from tearing the city apart. I realized after he left just how terrible other men could be, and how they would lie to satisfy their own needs above all else. Sandor though, his words were brutal and cut through all those beautiful lies to give you the truth. In all it's ugly glory.

After that first letter, it was a while before I received another one and not before I sent a reply some time later. My letter was short, as I truly didn't know what to write to him other than my thanks and pleasure at having him serve Winterfell and my house. At the same time, I didn't want to seem too formal.

Dear Sandor,

You have my thanks and gratitude for accepting my offer to serve as my sworn shield, and I will be forever grateful at your protecting of this house and all that remains within it's walls.

I would also like to thank you for your courage, courage in breaking the bindings of the past. You speak truth from the heart, and that takes bravery. Know that I am always grateful for it.

Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell.

That was my letter to Sandor, my first. I wanted him to truly know that I had always appreciated his honesty, no matter how harsh it was. Now, I truly missed hearing his words, the brutality of the truth and the coarseness of his voice. My days were spent around the ladies, maids and girls. I never saw my brother Bran much, though I did receive a letter often on how he was. As for Jon, I received letters from time to time. After all that had happened, Jon was never the same person, and struggled to fit into the daily ways of life, so he had taken off South to find some meaning to this life. It was sad that I didn't see him, though I knew he was finding his own peace. Something close to happiness.

When Jon first met Sandor, he was unsure of this giant of a man, face half scared and a menacing scowl. I knew differently. Sandor always kept creeping back into my thoughts over the years, now so more than ever after all this time together, our relationship had grown and was blossoming. Bran had the sight, he had felt Sandor's intentions, and knew he was to be trusted and not scorned for past regressions. It was Arya that needed persuasion. Arya was wild at heart, she always was from a little whelp. Gods, I did love her though. She, ever the little wolf protecting her pack. It was harder for Arya to be around Sandor more than any others. No one, especially Arya had forgotten Mycah, but in all rational thinking Sandor had had no choice in the matter, and surely would have been his head if he disobeyed. Truly, no one among us was without some guilt of our past happenings. Arya simply had a harder time than most letting the past be the past. She was trying, which is another reason why she spent so much time alone, and after some time, she too left like Jon. Arya however, went as far west as west goes, beyond the known world. I heard less from her than Jon which made my heart die a little each time. I never feared for Arya, I feared for others who would cross her.

The fires were dying again, and I grew tired, the night seemed endless. I lay down among the soft pillows and throws, my mind a wreck with worry for him. Where was he? Often times, these patrols of our borders took no more than a week or so. This time, is had been so long, I was losing count. Sandor...where were you now? Did you think of me? My chest ached not knowing. I sat in comfort of warm fires and furs, while he was out there in the cold and damp. He wasn't a young man anymore, and his leg caused him grief often. Over the years, I watched him continue working and serving as hard as an ox in the field, never slowing down or letting anyone see he felt tired.

The night grew long and I passed in and out of sleep. Still holding the box of his letters, I made my way to bed where I would at least in my dreams, be able to talk to him, hear his voice and be in his company.

How I missed him.

SANDOR

This buggering cold. Most of the men that are with me are all young and able for these long nights, 'cept for Thoros and Beric. That bastard never died. I though, would rather an ale in hand, feet by the fire and a woman to keep me warm. Only one ever took my thoughts so much as she did. Hair like the leaves of a Weirwood in the autumn set ablaze by the sun. Gods what I'd give just to see that hair now, not up in stupid fancy do's like in the cities, but loose and flowing down her back. It's only been the last few years I've noticed her as a woman, before she was just a whinging child. I'd always had great affection for her, though only in seeing a part of myself in her when she was younger. Now, she is a fine woman, tall and beautiful, standing apart from all others. Now I though, was growing older, and felt it. After those years apart, I often thought of what had happened to the poor girl when she didn't come with me. I see now, she wrose above all those fucking lords and their fucking lies and became a woman like non other, commanding the North and running her own home without a husband. Sometimes I was thankful she chose never to wed, a relief. I was content serving by her side, she never called me dog. She called me Sandor.

Gods what a damned night. Nothing but snow and wind and a cold arse. I'd often want to write to the Lady Sansa, but I'd never know what to say, their was nothing but this winter and little pricks wanting to start fights on the roads. I had wrote a couple before, only of successful border inspections, and clearing of any unwanted characters in the areas. Now I think she must not want to hear from me. I suppose it's a good a time as any to write her something of more worth.

My Lady Sansa,

Forgive me for not writing of late, or much. Many of the border inspections have gone successful, no sign of them and I hope never. Gods it's bloody freezing, only the dead could live this far North and any we have met might as well be dead for being this far North.

The men grow tired and hungry, food is scarce up here. It'll not be long now unless we run into anything, and we'll be back within the walls of Winterfell. I hope you are well little bird? I'll feel more agreeable once I have a warm fire, a steaming pot of stew and bread, and a bed that isn't made of branches and leaves!

One thought keeps me warm, and that is of my Lady's crimson hair. If I had a lock of that hair to keep with me, my night's wouldn't be as cold.

Kindest regards,

Sandor Clegane, protector and sworn shield to Lady Sansa Stark, of Winterfell.

Seven hells, if any of the men read that they'd piss themselves laughing. My age had soothed my temper, before I'd have bellowed over at saying such things to a woman. This was Sansa after all, she was not like other ladies of her rank. She was always kind of heart, even when she was younger. I was a monster. In my mind back then, I was doing her a favour, making her grow up and see the people around her for what they were. It only made me look like the monster I felt. Gods, when I met her again all those years later, I thought I'd end up on the block or the noose. The first time I met her again, I scarcely believed it was the same girl I'd met years before, then she was but a little whimpering girl. In front of me stood a tall graceful, if not stern faced young woman. She had lost the naivety she'd had, and now I seen some of that wolf that was in her little sister Arya only not as wild.

It wasn't just meeting Sansa again that was burned into my head. The moment I swore to serve and protect her, was not long before I'd learned of my brother's demise and it unburdened me of all the rage and revenge I felt most of my life. A great relief was lifted and now I served at the side of someone who had suffered as equally to myself, only I had the scar to show. That was no longer a bother to me.

I sat with the men, while Beris and Thoros stayed very much to themselves, discussing matters I had no interest in. Bugger it all, I had no interest in any of it, this fucking cold wrecked me. I wanted my bed and a good night's rest, with dreams of crimson hair and hear the sweet songs of the birds outside my window. I no longer had the strength to keep awake, one of the younger men could take watch, I had somewhere to be in my dreams away from this fucking place.

Gods...I missed her.