Hey guys, I'm sorry it's taken me awhile to update (well, awhile by my standards). I'm in the event industry so Halloween is huge for me. Bear with me until November, it'll be tough to find time for this. Also I was a little stuck on where I was going in the story, but hopefully I've worked that out. Please continue favoriting and reviewing! If you're new to my story, leave me a little note, I love to see who's reading! :D

-Sandor-

I glared at that cunt with all the hatred of a lifetime of dealing with men like him. He looked at Sansa as if he had some right to her—some license to take her hand and smother it with his pretty boy lips, just because he was a fucking lord.

I clenched my fists and took a step toward him, my hulking frame towering over his. "And just who the fuck do you think you are?" I growled, uncaring of the other patrons of the inn who glanced nervously at each other and shifted in their seats. Some even quietly stood and slinked out of the building to avoid impending violence. The handful of men who flanked the apparent lord turned their attention to me, taking a stance that signaled preparedness to fight and reaching for their weapons. Sansa was blushing—fuck that guy—and looking nervously at me as if she were trying to determine what to do about the sudden change of circumstance.

We'd arrived in Maidenpool less than an hour ago and had only just entered the inn before we were set upon by the men who now stared us down. They'd sauntered in, ten or so, with the sigil of some lesser house sewn on their jerkins, heading directly toward us. Immediately I had stepped in front of
Sansa, shielding her from the unknown danger approaching, before I noticed the gray direwolf of Stark, borne on a banner which was carried by one of the men. Ignoring me, they'd approached Sansa, with the pretty fucker going to his knees at once and taking her hand. He declared himself to be sent by her brother—that after Robb had learned of Sansa's escape, he'd sent men to all the cities and castles where he thought Sansa might ride, with the hopes of bringing her back safely before the Lannisters captured her. The only information they'd had to go on was a description of her appearance and the most telling fact of all—that she was known to be travelling with me. After a mouthful of lordly nonsense words, he'd returned to his feet and then had the gall to kiss her hand.

Now he turned to notice me for the first time. He had a look of disgust on his face, as if speaking to me was both beneath him and repulsive. "Clegane." He assessed me and cast a quick look behind him at the men who supported him before continuing. "King Robb has interest only in seeing his sister returned safely. If she attests to the fact that she was not harmed by you, we will allow you to be on your way. If you are seeking compensation, we will see to it that you are paid accordingly and will see the princess Sansa home from this point on." He turned back to Sansa, "My lady, I would request to speak with you in private so that you may have the opportunity to speak candidly without fear of retribution." He cast the look of disapproval my way again.

Sansa hadn't said a word since the whole spectacle had begun, and aside from the recent blush, she'd just stood there pale and silent, listening. She turned to me with an apologetic look on her face. "Just for a moment, Sandor. Please?" She gave a smile that was meant to reassure me, but there was no reassurance to be had so long as that fucker had his hands on her. He flicked an authoritative glance in my direction, before leading her by the hand to a far corner of the common room. I turned on my heel and headed to the stables, my jaw clenched. Inside, my emotions raged in a battle for dominance—anger one moment, fear the next. I was going to lose her.

Everything was over. I knew that I'd be leaving her eventually, had known that for a long time, but I was still supposed to have more time with her—we would have had all the time on the ship and perhaps even some time in White Harbor while waiting for her family. Now she would leave with a lordly escort, travelling in safety and comfort back to her mother and brother. Even if she did want me to join them, would I want to go through that? Unable to be near her, I'd be forced to watch her courted by that smug, handsome face until one day she married him—him or another like him. It would be just like it had been in King's Landing, only worse because I knew her now—cared for her so much more. My heart twisted inside of me.

I stalked angrily to the stables, cursing as I flung open the crude wooden door. And what were you thinking, Clegane? That she'd choose you? Marry you when she has her choice of any young, handsome fucker in the Seven Kingdoms, you actually thought you had a chance? She made do with your company when it was all to be had, put up with your advances because it was better than cold rape. I reached the stall where Stranger was and roughed my hand through my hair, pacing the hard packed earth as I tried to regain control of myself. Everything good in my life was coming crashing down around me and I wasn't prepared to lose it—to lose her. I leaned against the wooden frame, closing my eyes and drawing in a deep, shaky breath. Her face rose up in my mind's eye—"I care for you, Sandor." As much as I desperately wanted to, I didn't believe it anymore. Nothing in my life had ever turned out in my favor and this would be no different.

~Sansa~

He said his name was Waltyr, the son of Lord Dustin of Barrowtown. His sandy hair fell over his forehead lazily no matter how often he shoved it back from his large, hazel eyes. He was young, very handsome, and his smooth, gentlemanly manner was enough to fluster me. After Sandor had left, Waltyr led me to an empty table and sat with me, ready to share his purpose and what their presence in Maidenpool meant for me from this point on.

"You will be happy to know, lady Sansa, that your brother and mother were both well when last I saw them," he was saying, still holding my hand in his. "In fact," he chuckled, "your mother was actually punished with confinement to her chambers by his grace for releasing the Kingslayer in the hopes that Cersei would return you and your sister to her in exchange." He shook his head, "When the news came that you'd fled the city, King Robb requested men be sent to find you. We are to meet them at the Twins—with luck, we may even arrive in time for your uncle, Edmure's wedding" He released my hand reluctantly and for the first time, seemed almost shy. Clearing his throat, he glanced down at the table and continued, "His grace has promised your hand in marriage to the house responsible for bringing you home safely. Naturally, every man with eyes in his head has been tripping over one another, hoping to earn the honor." He grinned and looked handsomer than ever.

I smiled, embarrassed, and looked down at my hands. "You honor me, my lord."

He took that as encouragement to continue, for he put a hand on my shoulder in the next moment and spoke more seriously. "The Hound. Has he hurt you my lady? Harmed you in any way? You are safe now, you have my word. Only tell me what he has done and I will send my men now to put him in chains to meet King Robb's justice." When I looked up and met his eyes they were full of righteous indignation and his hand went instinctively to his sword hilt.

"No, no, my lord!" I explained quickly. "You—you had the right of it before. He only wanted to get away from the Lannisters and thought to take me as a means of receiving a reward to live on. He never hurt me—of course he would have known he'd receive no reward if he had." I looked back down at my hands. "He was not unpleasant, I would be grieved to see him harmed in any way. Please."

Waltyr nodded, relaxing his expression a bit and removing his hand from my shoulder. "Of course, my lady, you have a good heart. I have heard many tales of your great beauty—none of which were exaggerated, I must add—but your kindness is clearly of equal abundance in you." He smiled knowingly at me before changing the subject. "And now, you must be very tired from your journey. I will procure a room for you at once. You, there!" He called to a serving girl over my shoulder and requested a room and bath be prepared for me directly.

I glanced nervously in the direction of the door where Sandor had disappeared, but he was nowhere to be seen. Waltyr sat back down across from me, clearly determined to keep me company while my room was being prepared. Though I was nervous and unsure, it was difficult not to enjoy his presence. He was very pleasing—both in demeanor and appearance, and I found myself enjoying his conversation so much that I almost didn't want to leave when I was told my bath was ready. With one final glance at the doorway of the inn, I followed the girl upstairs.

-Sandor-

After brushing down Stranger and trying to ignore the rolling dread in my stomach, I finally returned to the inn. I looked about for Sansa, but she was no longer in the main room. Fear gripped my heart. I strode to the table where the men were gathered, laughing and celebrating their success with mugs of ale. "Where is she?" I demanded.

The handsome lord turned sideways with mild annoyance in his features before standing and facing me. He let his breath out with a hint of impatience, "The lady Sansa has retired to her room to bathe and prepare for the evening meal," he drawled, with self-importance dripping from every word. I clenched my fists, employing every muscle in my body to refrain from knocking him out. He glanced at his men and continued, "Clegane, you have brought the lady safely this far and you have my thanks for that. You are welcome to join in our food and ale this evening. I will also ensure that you receive your payment. You will be free to go wherever you choose, and you will always be welcome in the North." He gave me a gratifying smile that only irritated me further. "But your protection of lady Stark is no longer appropriate, nor necessary." He tilted his head slightly and raised an eyebrow. "Now, can I offer you a round of ale?"

I hated him. Ignoring his offer, I turned toward the stairs, but he moved to stop me. "Where are you going, ser?" His voice had taken on a threatening tone.

I whipped my head back around until it was inches from his, raising my lip in a sneer. "None of your fucking business," I growled. "And I'm not a ser."

His mouth went into a hard line. "Clearly not. If you are attempting to speak with the lady, I am afraid I cannot allow that. You may speak with her when she joins us for the meal. You will no longer be alone with her, Clegane." The corner of his mouth twitched and his hand moved to his sword hilt. I wanted nothing more than to put my fist in his pretty little face, but I thought better of it. There were too many of them to fight and I had to find another way out of this—had to hope that she wanted out of it too.

"I'm just getting myself a room, pretty boy." I sneered at him once more before moving to the keeper of the inn to request a room and a bath. I had to find a way to speak to Sansa in private. If she truly wanted to go home with these men—if she was done with me—so be it. I'd rather know sooner than later, but I had to have a moment alone with her.

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I bathed quickly, fighting the nagging worry and fear from taking hold of my mind the entire time. I couldn't leave her with them for too long, so I hurriedly dressed and headed back downstairs, wishing I knew what she was thinking—what she was planning on doing. When I reached the bottom of the steps I saw her immediately, freshly bathed and dressed in her clean, Northern gown. She was looking down and blushing again at something that fucking shitpile had said to her. The jealousy enraged me more than I wanted to admit, even to myself, but I had to keep my head. There was no way we would get out of this by fighting. I had to attempt to be civil.

When she saw me, she didn't show as much emotion as I'd hoped, though a flash of what I thought was relief seemed to pass over her features. She smiled politely, "Sandor," she said simply.

I couldn't help but return the smile, despite how angry and unsure I felt at the moment. "Little bird," I rasped gently. "Finally clean." I teased and she bit her lip, trying to suppress a grin.

The blonde prick quickly put an end to our interaction in the guise of inviting us both to sit down for supper. He offered his arm to her, and with a quick glance at me, she took it, looking embarrassed. I felt a stab in my heart, but hoped my exterior was as gruff and unreadable as I'd trained myself to be for so many years. He led her to the bench before taking a seat beside her. Sansa turned to me and made a small gesture that I should also sit beside her, but I ignored it, moving instead to the opposite side of the table. I hated myself for being petty, but I wouldn't be her second choice, wouldn't follow her like a piteous dog, hoping she still cared for me. She furrowed her brow slightly, then seemed to forget it, turning to speak to the blonde lord again. He was only too happy to be receiving her attention and carried on conversation with her throughout the meal.

I ate in silence, trying to cover the gnawing ache in my stomach with the stew and tankards of ale, but nothing could suppress the pain. When she laughed at something he said I clenched my spoon so tightly that the metal warped in my fist. It was the worst meal I'd ever sat through.

Eventually she began to show signs of fatigue, yawning and covering her mouth daintily. "Forgive me, Waltyr, I am very tired. I think I will retire for the night." They're on a first name basis? I clenched my jaw and looked up at her as she stood, meeting my gaze. "Sandor," she nodded at me, then moved to go upstairs.

"My lady, I will post a guard outside of your door tonight," Waltyr interjected quickly, with a slight glance in my direction, "For your protection." The way he smiled at her made me want to regurgitate my supper.

Sansa glanced at me briefly before turning back to him, but I thought I'd seen a flicker of fear in her features. "Oh, no, please that isn't necessary." She looked beseechingly at him.

"I'm sorry, my lady, but your brother insists I take every precaution with you. Any man in this inn might seek to bring you harm." Again, his eyes flicked to me. Look at me one more time, cunt, and you won't have eyes.

She sighed, defeated, and nodded weakly. With a final glance at me, and an expression on her face that I couldn't quite read, she moved away from the table.

"Sansa," I said without thinking, getting to my feet suddenly. Everyone's attention turned to me as she rotated in my direction slowly. "Can I speak with you?" I asked quietly.

She lifted her chin slightly and nodded, "Of course, Sandor, but can it wait until morning? I am very tired now, and it has been far too long since I've slept in a proper bed." Her expression was impossible to read.

My heart fell, but I tried not to reveal how much her nonchalance pained me. We were being forced apart and it seemed to make no difference to her. I nodded wordlessly, returning to my seat. Sansa turned away once more and disappeared up the stairs.

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No matter how I tried, sleep would not come. I lay awake in despair, staring at the ceiling into the early hours of the morning. I knew I would be saying goodbye to her at dawn, and I wasn't ready to lose her. I thought of every moment I'd spent with her, of every time she'd made my heart thrill, every smile she'd given me. I remembered her lips on mine, the feel of her smooth skin in my hands—something I would never feel again. I had allowed myself to wish, to hope for more than I deserved and that had been my mistake. I was a dog, a burned dog destined to lead a cruel life of suffering and pain. Why had I ever thought that she could love me?

The moment we'd shared only last night in Gil and Becca's fields came back to me in a rush of bittersweet remembrance. The way the wind had tossed her skirts and long red hair about her—she had looked the picture of sweet, feminine perfection. And I'd taken her in my arms and kissed her, held her close to my heart where I'd hoped she could always be. I had allowed myself to hope, to dream of a life with her by my side and now it was all fading away.

A tiny knock sounded at my door, so small that I thought I imagined it. I squinted at the door through the darkness before deciding that it had just been movement from another room. Settling again on my pillow, I tried to pick up the reverie where I'd left off, but instead I heard the tapping once more, followed by a whisper. "Sandor?"

My heart leapt at her voice and I nearly fell off the bed in my rush to get to the door. I took a deep breath and turned the knob slowly. Sansa's small, hooded figure slipped inside my room quickly, shutting the door softly behind her.

Though I was relieved to see her, I couldn't help but show my surprise. "Little bird, what—"

She jerked her hood off and reached up to me, wrapping her arms around my neck and covering my mouth with hers. The relief washed over me like a wave as I exhaled and drew her into me, allowing my fears and insecurities to flee before her unrestrained display of affection. She cared for me. She still wanted me. I kissed her fiercely, the emotion rising inside me with every second. It was too much and my throat tightened.

I drew back slowly, my hand caressing her cheek as her lips left mine. "Sansa," I whispered hoarsely, searching her eyes. "I thought you…" I swallowed, unable to finish my thought.

She cupped my scarred face with her little hand, her brow furrowing in concern, "You thought I didn't care for you? Thought a handsome lord could make me forget what I feel about you?" She kissed me again. "Do you know what he told me?" She didn't wait for my response. "My brother offered my hand in marriage to whichever house found me and brought me home safely." Her teeth set angrily and she looked away. "Doesn't matter who, doesn't matter what the man is like, if he's good or kind, just matters that he finds me." She was trying to whisper, and it came out like a hiss in her anger. "I'm just a bargaining tool, just a valuable asset." She turned back and caressed my face once more. "I know my family loves me, but they don't understand what I went through with Joffrey, they're thinking like they're at war, and they are, but I'm a person." She searched my eyes and reached up with her other hand, holding my face between hers. "I will not ever let my fate be decided with a prearranged betrothal again. I feel safe with you—happy with you, and I want to be with you, Sandor."

Gods, it was like a dream, like the best dream I'd ever had, but she was flesh and blood, and she was in my arms. I gathered her once more and drew her as close to me as physically possible, holding her tightly against my heart. She was mine and I would never let her go. I kissed her head and rested my face against her soft, clean hair, overcome with feeling for her. She lifted her face to mine and I stroked her cheek with my thumb, gazing into her clear blue eyes in the moonlight. I wouldn't hold it in any longer—she was my everything.

"I love you, little bird," I whispered hoarsely, stroking a lock of hair back from her temple, and making sure she could read the sincerity in my eyes.

Her mouth fell open slightly as she caught her breath, her brow furrowing with emotion as she reached up and took my face in her hand once more. Her eyes passed back and forth between mine earnestly, processing my confession. Then she closed her eyes and kissed my lips softly.

"I don't really know what love is," she whispered, tracing the scars on my face. "But I know I couldn't face life without you. If love is feeling the way you make me feel, and never wanting to let you go—if it's wanting you to find peace and happiness, and wanting to be a part of that more than I've ever wanted anything…then," she smiled and looked into my eyes, "Then I must love you, Sandor."

I raked my fingers into the hair at the back of her head, drawing her into my kiss. I had bared my soul—allowed my walls to come down for the woman who had stolen my heart, and she'd responded in a way I'd only hoped for. I knew a happiness in that moment that couldn't be described with words. I never wanted that moment to end.

When it finally did, after one last tender smile, she glanced back at the door. "We have to leave, Sandor. Tonight. They won't understand, Robb won't understand. I want to leave with you." She looked at me beseechingly. "I'm sorry I was short with you earlier, but I didn't want them to catch on and try to lock you up or anything."

Suddenly I remembered, "How did you get past the guard?"

She smiled mischievously, "I climbed out of my window. It wasn't very high, I tied off my sheet and used it to lower myself down. Then I crept back up the stairs. The guard was still at my door, but he was dead asleep with his back against it. So I held my breath and knocked at your door, praying he wouldn't wake up. I had asked the handmaiden before bed which door was yours. I knew the only way we could get out was if I could get to you tonight." She grasped my hands in hers. "So let's go," she whispered. "I already have my bag, I left it hidden outside before I came up here."

I chuckled and shook my head, "You always surprise me, Sansa." She grinned and I pulled her by the waist toward me, kissing her again. "Where will we go?" I asked seriously.

"Anywhere," she said, looking deep into my eyes. "We can take the first ship out of the harbor, I don't care where it's going, I just want to get away. With you." She kissed my hand.

"Aye," I rasped, taking her waist in both hands, still in shock at the favorable turn of events. I kissed her brow. "Then let's go."