A/N: Okay…I am really, REALLY back this time! Work created some new policies that stated computers cannot be used for personal use at any time (I wrote and updated chapters during my lunch break) and all my time outside of work was consumed with wedding planning. It is all over now (yay!), so I can finally get back to updating as I once did. I missed you guys and this story and I am glad I can focus on this, and the book I am writing, at last. As always, thanks for the reviews, favorites, and follows. Truly makes my day Now, let's get back to our favorite couple…more of a fluffy chapter before we find out who the man with no name is.

Sandor squinted his eyes as he looked around the dark tent. Night had fallen and their camp had been quickly put together. As the tents went up, Sandor had looked around to try to get his bearings, as commander what's his name had ordered him to be previously blindfolded. Without his eyesight, Sandor listened to anything and everything to try to figure out what towns they were passing or perhaps a rumor of Lannister army movements. Occasionally, he would hear Ned Stark speak up in his defense, but the sweetest thing he had ever heard was his Little Bird voicing her opinion on the matter. It pained him, though, to hear her beg on his behalf. Of course she still kept to her chirping, those polite little courtesies she could hide behind, but it was not enough. Not this time.

There was nothing spectacular about his tent. There was some straw on the ground, which made sitting on the damp earth somewhat tolerable and he had some canvas over his head in case it rained. Or snow. We are in the fucking North now. Who knows, maybe this time Stark will actually be right. "Winter is coming" my ass. I'll believe it when I see it. The cool iron of the shackles was tight around his wrists and he rubbed the skin in an attempt to ease some of his discomfort. One leg stretched out in front of him and the other was bent at the knee, his foot flat on the ground. Nothing more I can do until I am out of this, for her sake. That damn craven bastard is going to regret this. I'll make sure of that.

He tried to distract himself, but his mouth was dry and all he could think about was a drink. Maybe a cool ale or a wineskin. Hell, I would even settle for some of that spring water I heard trickling back at the last crossroad. It had been a warm day, despite being further north than what he had been accustomed to in Kings Landing, and the short man in charge had ordered his men not to give The Hound food or drink. Food I can do without, but he is a damned prick to deny anyone water on a hard ride such as we had. Of course the soldiers had taunted him. Of course he threatened them, but his threats fell on deaf ears. He was in the North now. He had no friends to help him.

Poor Sansa is doing her best for me. More than anyone's ever done, in fact. It was this thought that made him reflect back to the moment he had chosen to help her. Lost in the memory, he didn't hear the soft footsteps outside the tent and startled when the flap opened to reveal a shadowed figure. It was night, but the camp's fires had been built far away from him, but even so, Sandor could see Sansa's determined face.

She had on a newer, warmer dress than the one she had worn when they had escaped Kings Landing and Sandor was grateful she was given something new and pretty, at least he assumed it was. All he could tell was that the cut was at least flattering. "That dress suits you, Little Bird."

He knew enough about Sansa's mannerisms at this point to know that with his compliment, she would give a slight smile, her eyes would shine, and then she characteristically looked down towards her feet. "Thank you, Sandor."

He chuckled and patted the ground next to him. "No need to thank me every time I say something nice to you. Have a seat and tell me why you have come to see this old dog."

Without a care to what might happen to her dress, Sansa walked over to Sandor and lifted her skirts just enough so she could sit down without tripping on the hem.

"It is terrible the way they have treated you. I have tried and tried to get them to see reason, but no one will listen to me. No food is to be brought to you, no one is supposed to talk to you and I hate it. I had to sneak out the back of my own tent just to see you."

Sandor smiled and his heart flipped. "Who would've thought that the high and noble Sansa Stark would ever condescend to sneak out of her tent to see The Hound."

"Well, I, I didn't mean that, it's just they are guarding the front and I couldn't convince them to let me out or anything and—"she said in a meek, quiet voice and her speech died off as she looked down into her lap.

Frustrated with how intimidated she could become, around both himself and others, Sandor moved his face closer to hers, unable to stand by anymore. "Now listen to me, Sansa. Don't ever let anyone intimidate you. Not those soldiers, fucking Borin, or even that cunt Cersei Lannister if you ever see her again. Hell, even me. I watched what you endured in Kings Landing and you sat back and did nothing. You survived because of it, but don't allow it to become who you are now."

Sansa looked up at him, questioning him with her eyes. "I don't understand. What they did to me was horrible and unforgivable."

"I don't disagree with it, but don't let their past behavior become part of who you are now. Draw strength upon it, they can't hurt you anymore. Remember that hurt, that pain and stand up for what you believe in."

Sandor lifted her chin with his hand so she was looking him straight in the eyes. "And never look down. Others will use it against you, but if you look them in them in the eyes, they will know they are matched with the strong woman I have come to know. Let others see it and never back down. Speak what's on your mind and with confidence, like the wolf you are. When you do, others will listen."

She thought for a moment while staring into Sandor's eyes then finally realized what he had said and understood what he meant. "It goes against everything Septa Mordane ever taught me."

"Fuck your Septa. You show the Seven Kingdoms what Sansa Stark is made of and I will be there to support you every step of the way."

Neither knew what to say after that. They sat in silence and listened to the voices of distant Stark soldiers when finally, Sansa gave a surprised gasp. "I almost forgot the reason I came here in the first place!"

Sandor hadn't realized it, but she had kept her hands mainly hidden underneath the voluminous sleeves on her dress and Sansa suddenly moved into action, letting one of the sleeves slide back on her arm, revealing the wineskin she had been holding.

"I slipped it out of a sack belonging to one of the soldiers. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to acquire one. Now I realize why Varys liked such bulky sleeves. They certainly are useful for hiding things," Sansa said with a giggle that made Sandor laugh.

"Now that's the woman I know. Keep it up and there will be no man to match you in the Seven Kingdoms."

Sansa uncorked the wine skin and held it out to Sandor. He took it from her, careful not to brush her skin, and attempted to bring it to his lips, but was unable to as his chains were just a little too short.

"Here, let me," Sansa offered as she took the wine skin back and held it to his lips. It was a sour red that slid over his tongue and nothing had ever tasted better to Sandor. After a day of not drinking anything, this was almost a gift from the gods, but better, as it was his Little Bird that was helping him.

A sound close by made Sansa pull the wine away and both listened, trying to figure if they would be caught. Sandor quickly whispered to Sansa, "Go now, just in case. It won't do for you to be caught bringing me drink."

She nodded her assent and began to pull away when Sandor grabbed her wrist and impulsively leaned forward, kissing her on the cheek. "Thank you, Little Bird."