I do not own ASOIAF. I do not profit from this story, nor would I ever seek to do so. All credit for characters and setting to the wonderful GRRM.

Sorry this chapter took so long. But I had a hard time finding the balance for it, and am still unsure if I like it. I hope to get the next chapter out to you more quickly.

A BIG THANK YOU TO ALL READERS AND REVIEWERS. I appreciate all the feedback.

Sandor paced restlessly around the wagons, making sure that everything was secure.

He spent the night without much sleep. It was to be expected, and he did not know if sleep would come any easier until Sansa was safe behind Winterfell's restored walls. The little bird became cold in the night, though he kept the fire stoked well, she did not stop shivering until he slid in next to her. Instantaneously, she curled into his side, resting her cheek on his chest.

He shook his head. Time to push such thoughts away. He did not need to think about how nice it had been when she woke next to him, squeezing him tighter for a moment. She smiled up at him before withdrawing.

Sansa was inside the inn still, meeting with Ser Bronn and the children and probably Lady Stoneheart while Lady Brienne stood guard over her and the Kingslayer.

Somehow the little bird had convinced Lord Sellsword to allow her the use of his horses. Whether she had bartered, bought the horses, or just intended to keep him a captive as well—Sandor could not say.

He ought to be at her side, but he was now in charge of getting fifty children and his little bird safely to Clegane Keep. If he had been a praying man, he would have prayed for their safety.

He would be driving the lead wagon of the train with Sansa seated next to him. The big boy, Gendry, would be driving the last wagon. The boy had been unhappy about the arrangements, but life was full of disappointments. Many of the older children would be walking or riding on the horses not hitched to the wagons.

"Hound."

Turning, he saw Lady Catelyn standing with the northmen.

"What do you want?" he asked. Couldn't they see that he was busy preparing to take Lady Sansa to safety? He did not have time for any shit they had.

"Lady Stoneheart would have words with you."

Sandor bit back a snarl. Why were they wasting his time with talk?

"I remember you."

"I have one of those faces." Sandor snarled, checking the last wagon to be sure that everything was secure.

"I know how you look at Sansa."

Sandor rolled his eyes. Where was this going? He knew his place, but everyone from the little hellion who brought Sansa's bathwater to her nearly departed half dead mother were dying to remind him.

"I know you want her, Dog."

"She is a married woman," Sandor said, placing a hand on his sword. "And she is not married to me." If she was, he would have claimed her and kept her close to him. He would not tolerate anyone saying that she was not his woman.

"See that you remember that."

Sandor rolled his eyes as he turned his back to them. Why did they feel the need to kick a dog?

"Look, Lady, I know my place." He fought the desire to snarl at her that a dog and a wolf go together better than a fish and wolf. "She is my mistress, not my mate. I know your message." He had heard the message all his life. No lady wanted a man as ugly as he. Only a whore was suitable for him—and only when he had money for her services.

He ought to guard himself more carefully when it came to Sansa. If his feelings were obvious, he shifted. Any man would want a creature as pretty as Sansa curled in his bed and snuggled into his side. Any man would be happy to have her kisses, and he had been given kisses. She was so lovely that he was obviously a monster polluting her.

"Why do you serve her?"

Sandor adjusted the straps on the horses that would be pulling the wagons. He served her because she was the first person to be kind to him that he could really remember in a long time. At first her kindness had seemed only a lie, but it became clear that she meant those words the more they spoke—the more addicted he became to her sweetness.

She never snapped or became angry, even when he was nasty to her. The closest she had ever come was when she had almost gone to tears and asked him why he was so nasty. Her words had stung, but not as much as her not coming to him right after had. He saved her life. She had to have been frightened after seeing a man get his arm chopped off, but she had seen Joffrey dispense justice, so it should not have been as horrifying as that—it had been in her defense. She did not understand that it was for her.

"Any good dog protects his mistress with his life."

"Sandor, please don't call yourself a dog."

He looked up and saw Sansa standing on the porch of the inn with a thick blanket of black bear fur around her shoulders. She was radiant, standing there with a few snowflakes swirling around her. The light breeze blew through her hair. It was hanging mostly loose in a northern style, looking soft and shiny. She blinked softly as she moved to the edge of the porch.

"As you wish," he said, looking away from her as he offered her his hand.

She took it, and he helped her down the icy steps. Tucking his hand in between hers, she drew his arm close for a moment.

It would be easier if he could call himself a dog. It would help her understand. He was not her equal, but she never cared for the name he'd earned.

"We are ready to depart as soon as you desire, Lady Sansa."

He lifted his hood to hide his face and ignored the parting words being exchanged by Lady Sansa and her mother. Her mother disliked him, even when he was helping or had helped her daughters.

"Help?" a little girl said tugging on his cloak softly. She held her arms up indicating her need to be lifted into the back of a wagon.

Sandor scooped her up with one hand and deposited her in the back of the middle wagon. She giggled and smiled at him. He moved quickly to the wagon at the head of the column. He heard the approaching footsteps and decided to ignore them, hoping the courtesy would be extended to him in turn.

"Sandor."

"By the seven," he cursed, turning on the man. He glowered fiercely for only a moment.

"I see you have found your temper," Elder Brother said, looking him over.

Sandor ignored him. His temper was necessary. It was being employed by a fine woman now. He ought to thank the man for saving his life, though he had asked Sansa's sister for the gift of mercy and been denied.

"Winter brings people together."

What was he blathering about? A relationship of necessity was what he and Sansa had. She needed him, now that the winter had come for her family.

Sansa had already determined to ride with him today, though it would be easier if she rode with someone else. He could not deny his pleasure at the knowledge that she asked for time with him and did not wish to be anywhere else in the train. She called the children 'their people.' She put him and herself on the same level, though they were far from the same station.

"Any woman would be lucky to have your cloak about her shoulders, Sandor."

He jerked as his eyes narrowed and a sneer decorated his features.

"No woman wants more than a—d—sworn shield protecting her or her whelp when it comes to me." Sandor glowered at the man. He made his choice. If he was doomed to spend his death burning equal amounts of time in each of the seven hells, Sansa was worth that. She was the reason he changed. She changed him.

Elder Brother smiled at him softly as if he understood something Sandor was not saying.

What sort of nonsense was that? Any woman and his cloak. He would not subject a woman to the yellow monstrosity. He appreciated what it represented, but it was also a symbol of his brother and all the horrors he had been unleashed by Tywin Lannister to do. He dashed a baby's brains out on a wall. He burned and raped the Riverlands. Sandor shook his head. He did not want to think about such things.

"You are too harsh with yourself. In any case, she is beautiful enough to make anyone more lovely and good simply by being close to him."

Sandor sneered at the straps binding the horses. She was beautiful, and the beautiful never enjoy the ugly—more than what they can utilize them for. They did not care for them.

"A dog may run with wolves."

Sandor glowered at him. Only an ugly fool would seek the adoration of a beautiful lady, but even an ugly fool could adore a lady. Even a dog could stay at her feet and accept whatever morsels and pats she offered.

He could not help himself from thinking on their kisses, and how she curled so sweetly and submissively at his feet. He belonged at her feet. He should not allow her to be on her knees in front of him. It was unsuitable as wonderful as it was.

"Did you have something meaningful to say?"

"I hope you will stop by the Quiet Isle before you take Lady Sansa north when spring comes. I shall be returning, though I believe Septon Meribald will be journeying with you."

So a septon was coming with them. Sansa would probably be pleased. There was a small sept at his family keep, or at least there had been. It might have been destroyed by Gregor and the company he kept.

"Elder Brother, I hope your trip back to the Quiet Isle will be pleasant." Sansa bobbed a soft curtsy and took Elder Brother's band for a moment.

"I wish you safety on your journey to safety as well, Lady Sansa."

"I am certain I am safe. I have Sandor to keep me safe." She released Elder Brother's hand and reached for Sandor's arm, tucking it close to her.

When she smiled at him, it nearly made him melt. He knew he was a great fighter. She knew the same. He would be sure that her confidence was not misplaced.

"And of course, Lady Brienne and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard will also see to my safety."

Sansa moved to stand beside the lead wagon, tugging him with her by the arm. She smiled up at him.

He stared down at her hands where they rested on his arm, directing him with their gentleness in a way that no one had ever commanded him before.

"Will you help me up to the wagon, Captain?"

Sandor took her waist and lifted her to the seat, keeping his hands on her till she was comfortably situated.

"Thank you." She cradled his hand softly for a moment after sliding her hands from his shoulders.

He hoped he was making a good choice for which direction to travel. With the company and voice of the Kingsguard, it should be safe to chance the journey that direction, and once past the barriers surrounding the monstrous castle, it would be mostly farmland that was now empty.

He adjusted the blanket she had wrapped herself in, tucking it around her carefully. It was so large around her small frame. All the children were similarly bundled in blankets that did not need their arms free.

Lady Stoneheart and her northman approached Sansa.

"I hope we will be together in Winterfell again soon. I will have Gendry forge a sword for Father's hands."

"Lord Eddard shall be at rest in his place, if it is the will of the gods, old and new."

Sansa nodded her head softly as Sandor climbed up to sit at her side. Two young boys mounted rode up on either side of the wagon, holding bows in their hands.

"I am ready to leave, Sandor."

He nodded, flicking the reins. The horses came to life and trotted forward smoothly following the lead of the two horses riding in front. The journey down the stretch of the King's Road would be the easy part. What followed when they left it would be the difficult stretch, but he would get Sansa to safety.