I hope you all enjoy this chapter! It took me a while to find time to update, but I will try to do it more often.

Sandor stared at Arya. She looked different from when he had last seen her, though that was to be expected. It had been three years since she had left him to die on the side of that mountain. She'd be sixteen by now, and she looked it. He hair was a little longer than before, but was tied back away from her face. She wore a small smirk.

"I thought you were dead too," he finally said.

She shrugged. "I guess we're both a little tougher than we thought."

"I guess so."

"Where are you headed?" she asked.

Sandor motioned in the direction of Winter Town. "To get a drink."

Arya nodded. "I'll join you."

"Don't you want to go see your sister? She'll want to know you're alive."

A small look of concern crossed Arya's face. "I haven't seen my sister in more than five years. I can wait a few more hours."

Sandor nodded, not pressing the matter further. He began to walk in the direction of Winter Town once again, and Arya fell in line. Sandor watched her out of the corner of his eyes. Though she did look older, that wasn't the only thing different about her. She walked with a grace that she had never had before. Every movement was fluid, like water. He supposed there had been something to that water dancing she had gone on about.

"I can see you watching me," she smiled, not looking at him. "What is it?"

"You're different."

"Yes," she nodded.

"What happened to you?"

She was silent for a moment. "The same thing that happened to you I suppose. Life."

"You weren't so damn cryptic the last time I saw you."

She laughed. "I'm not a stupid little girl anymore."

Sandor shook his head. "You were never a stupid little girl."

They reached the town and made their way to the pub. It was a bit louder than normal, with all the men that normally worked the fields inside for the new snow. Sandor made his way to the back of the room and found an empty table. Arya sat across from him. She leaned back, looking unconcerned at the rowdy men around her.

"What have you been doing since you left me to die?"

She smirked, but ignored him accusing tone. "Oh, you know, a little of this and little of that."

"Enough with the riddles, girl!" Sandor snapped. Gods, she had always had a way of getting under his skin. She leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table.

"You really want to know?"

"Why the fuck else would I ask?"

She nodded, looking over his face. "I killed the Frey's."

He stared at her in silence for a moment. "What are you talking about?"

"Surely by now you've heard the Frey's are all dead?"

"Yeah."

"Well I killed them," she shrugged.

Sandor studied her face, trying to decide if she was lying. When he realized she wasn't, he leaned forward on the table. "How?"

Arya smiled, seeming to come alive. This was clearly something she had wanted to tell someone. "Well, first I killed Walder's eldest sons. I cut them up and baked them into a pie, before serving it to Walder. Then, I cut his throat and took his face. Finally, I poisoned all the wine pitchers and killed the rest of the males in his family."

Sandor couldn't help but laugh. "You're serious?"

Arya laughed along with him. "I am."

"Fuck, I'm not even that vicious."

"I don't know about that. I remember a few instances where you were quite the beast."

Before Sandor could respond, a full-figured bar maid approached their table. "Can I get you two anything?"

"Your biggest pitcher of ale," Sandor said.

Arya waved her away. "Nothing for me."

The bar maid left to get Sandor his drink.

"You're not a child anymore, why not order a drink?"

"I don't need anything slowing my mind. I don't have armor or a big fucking sword, just speed and my own mind."

The maid came back and set Sandor's drink before him. She turned to Arya once more. "Are you sure I can't get you a drink love? The Hound has a bit of a reputation with the other girls, and you look a bit too small to be taking him sober."

Sandor, who had been in the middle of taking a large drink, nearly choked. Drink sloshed down his front. "What the fuck are you going on about woman? Get out of here before I knock sense into you."

The bar maid, looking offended, turned and walked back to the bar. He looked to Arya and found that she was laughing. "What the hell's so funny?"

"She isn't the first person to think your intentions are less than pure with me."

Sandor shook his head, wiping the spilled ale from his chin. "This world is filled with fucking monsters. People call me a beast, but I would never do that to a child."

Arya leaned back in her chair and placed her feet on the table. "Well, I'm not exactly a child anymore. But I understand. For all your faults and all your protests against it, you are an honorable man. Perhaps not in the traditional sense, but in your own way."

Sandor stared into his cup. "I'm better than some, worse than others." He looked back up at her and saw that her eyes were moving around the room, taking in everything around them. "I thought you would be mad that I was alive. I thought you wanted to cross my names off your list."

Her eyes landed back on him. "I thought I did too. But, after a hard lesson, I realized I was wrong. I didn't want you dead. That's why I didn't kill you when you begged me."

He nodded. "Well, you're coming back at interesting time."

Arya raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Sandor twisted his cup in his hands, debating himself on what to tell her. "Your sister is pregnant."

Arya's eyes widened. She hadn't been expecting that. "Who's the father?"

"Ramsey." The words tasted like poison on his tongue. He didn't want them to be true.

Arya narrowed her eyes. "Why do you look so upset about that? What is it to you whose baby she has."

He lifted his eyes to hers, and it took her only a moment to read his expression. She dropped her feet from the table and leaned forward. "Whoa, wait. Seriously? You and Sansa?"

"No! I mean not really. We only spent one night together. It didn't mean anything."

"It doesn't look like it meant nothing," Arya frowned. "Do you love her?"

"No, of course I don't," he growled.

A slow smile spread across her face. "Liar. I can see it, in your eyes."

He looked away. He didn't like this new Arya so much. She was too damn perceptive. As she watched him, her smile slid away. "Does she love you?"

He shook his head and closed his eyes. "No."

"Have you asked her?"

"I don't need to ask her," he snapped. "Why would she ever love me? All she has ever talked about are her hansom knights and dream life of being married to one."

Arya shrugged. "I mean, you know her better that I do now, I suppose. But I'm guessing Sansa has changed quite a lot in these last five years. I know I have."

Sandor clenched his fists. He wouldn't allow that thought into his head. It was too much to hope for, and too much to lose if it wasn't true. When he didn't respond, Arya continued.

"So, what does Sansa plan to do?"

"She says that she'll tell everyone it was someone else's. She'll raise it as a Snow."

Arya frowned. "And the child will be raised without a father? That's not right. Every child deserves a father."

Sandor downed that last of his drink. "It's her choice. Besides, what am I supposed to do about it?" When he looked up at her, she wore an odd look on her face. "What? What is it?"

"Well, it's just, if you really do love Sansa… why don't you say the child is yours?"

Sandor stared at Arya as though she had lost her mind. "Why the fuck would I do that to her?"

"You would be helping her!" Arya insisted. "That way, the child wouldn't be a bastard. Plus, you would get what you want, and Sansa would have someone to protect her. Nobody could ever marry her off again."

Sandor shook his head. "Even if I said it was mine, the child would still be a bastard."

Arya crossed her arms. "Not if you married her."

At this, Sandor burst into laughter. "You really have lost your mind."

Arya only smiled at this. "What's so crazy about that?"

His smile slid from his face as he realized she was serious. "It would never work. Sansa would not agree to it."

"But would you?"

"What?"

"If she agreed to it, would you do it? Would you raise a child that wasn't yours and claim it as your own?"

Sandor frowned. In truth, he didn't know. On one hand, you doubted he would be able to look at the child of Ramsey's without hate and contempt for what their father had done to Sansa. On the other hand, it would be Sansa's child. It may even look like her. And if he was married to her, he could protect her always. He could have her always. He shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. Sansa would never agree to it."

Arya leaned back, still wearing her mischievous smirk. "You'll never know until you ask."