He could not decide what was annoying him more: the incessant snoring of the man sleeping in the corner or the cold chill that was creeping up his legs. It felt like he was already beyond the wall, not sat in the kitchen of Winterfell. Sandor stamped his feet and shifted his position. He didn't want to wake up. He wanted to sleep for seven days and everything was conspiring against him. Fuck this noise. Fuck this damn cold. He considered getting up and kicking the nasally challenged sell sword out of the kitchen but he knew it was churlish and he didn't want to feel angry, he wanted to slip back into the sweet dream he had been having. Sansa's white skin beneath his hands, the sun on his back, the pair of them lying in a meadow of long grass, the kind that surrounded Clegane Keep. Now Gregor was dead there was nothing stopping him from returning to his family seat. Nothing, if you didn't count the Lannister's or the Bolton's and Gods knew how many other buggering bastards in the Seven Kingdoms who would like nothing better than to kill him or Sansa. Every man is an enemy, thought the Hound, every man apart from Jon Snow and I don't know if I can trust him yet. The Clegane House and the Stark House joined in marriage, such an unexpected turn of events. Sandor smiled as he thought about his wife telling Snow she was married to the Hound. Jon's face had been a picture of bewilderment and shock but it was true: Sandor and Sansa were married and no one could part them. Not in this life.

Sandor tried to turn in his chair to get more comfortable but he twisted his broken arm and a dull ache began to throb in his elbow making sleep impossible. With a soft growl he opened his slate grey eyes and glared at the fire that had gone out and then at the man who was snoring like a fat pig on the other side of the room. Before Sansa had come into his life he would have beaten that man for snoring and thrown him out of the room but now he simply simmered internally and made a mental note to make sure that particular sell sword was on night watch next time he wanted to sleep. The Hound stood up and moved towards the fireplace. His shoulders were tight and his body language murderous; if the sell sword had woken he would have been cowering in fear but he slept on and his snores rumbled around the lofty kitchen. Sandor glared at him, his fists clenching, then his face softened as he leant down and checked the boy sleeping to the left of the hearth. Grendle's skin was a healthy colour in the parts that weren't bruised and he wasn't feverish. The Hound placed his big hand gently on the boy's forehead.

'He's fine, I've been watching him,' a soft, low voice spoke from the alcove to the right of the fire.

'I didn't see you there, Crow.'

'A crow and a hound,' Jon chuckled, 'are we creatures or people?'

'Both.' The Hound knelt down in front of the fire and began to poke the embers. Leaning forward so his mouth was inches from the coals he blew slowly. Fire could go fuck itself, he thought, it has no dominion over me any more. It cannot hurt me, like that corpse in the yard cannot hurt me. Again, he blew on the fire. After a few moments the red coals caught into flames and he fed small pieces of kindling on top of them. Jon watched him, his feet still resting on the edge of the table. Sandor leant toward the log basket at Jon's feet and hefted some onto the fire with his good hand. Soon it was blazing and the heat began to warm them, lifting the chill atmosphere in the room. Not until he was sure the fire was well in did he step away from it and lower his body into a chair next to Jon. Both of them stared at Grendle.

'Do you think he's warm enough, now the fire is going?'

Jon nodded and passed Sandor the wine skin. 'He does not lack for warmth. Sansa put three blankets on him. I un-wrapped him when she went upstairs.'

The Hound grunted, 'She likes to take care of people.'

'Yes, Catelyn was the same.'

'But not you, eh? Couldn't care for the bastard in her house' The Hound passed the wine back.

Jon took a long drink, then shook his head whilst wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he smiled, 'Sansa and I were just talking about this before she went up. I was the unwanted crow in the nest I suppose.'

'You cannot choose your family.'

'Yet it seems you have chosen this boy. Why do you take him as your own?'

The Hound smiled. His grin was ghastly in the candlelight and Jon recoiled slightly at the misshapen mouth. The Hound noticed his reaction but he ignored it and continued to smile until Jon leant forward to hear what he had to say.

'The boy is like a limpet on a ship. Impossible to prise off and I would not want to. He makes me happy. Happy…I never thought I would even say that word. The way he sees the world is refreshing. He always sees the positives, he always has hope, he always tries to help me and keep Sansa safe. Gregor beat me when I was a child and Grendle was beaten. I became a dark monster but Grendle still has a light inside him. Can you understand why I would love a child like that?'

Jon breathed out in one long breath, aware suddenly that he had been holding it whilst the Hound talked. Sandor's grey eyes were intense and emotional; difficult to reconcile in that huge killer's body.

'I understand that he is a very special person and I look forward to getting to know him when he wakes up.'

'He is not perfect mind you,' the Hound barked with laughter making Jon jump, 'he is infuriating, rude, exasperating and insolent. But he is my son now and I am proud of him.'

'Sansa loves him also.' Jon drank another draft of wine, 'and you she praises greatly.'

'Perhaps you think I am unworthy of her love?'

'On the contrary, I think you are the greatest Knight in the Seven Kingdoms, after all you killed the biggest monster I have seen in this land and I'm sure you know that Sansa always dreamt of a Knight for a husband.'

Sandor laughed, coughing on his wine. The cheeky damn Crow, he thought, he and Sansa have the same sarcastic humour.

'You are not dull as I first thought Jon Snow. You have some fire in your guts like Sansa and the little wolf bitch. You Stark's are stubborn and brave and now we are family. I will protect your sister; have no fear that I am anything other than loyal to her.'

'I do not fear you. Nor do I imagine you would hurt her.' Jon stared at Sandor then he continued, 'I only wonder what you will do now? Will you stay here? It is not safe. I cannot linger here. War is approaching on all sides. I am needed at the wall.'

'Sansa will want to stay here but we cannot hold it with a few dubious sell swords and brigands.' The Hound leant forward to poke the fire with a metal poker. The sparks hissed and lit up their faces.

'Do you see this as your home now?' Jon threw a log to him to put on the fire.

'Home is wherever Sansa is.'

'Come with me to the wall. You will be safe there.'

'Tomorrow, we shall discuss it. Once the boy is better.'

Both men drank again and sank into companionable silence, broken by the toneless sound of snoring reverberating from the corner of the room.

'Shall I stick my knife in that bastard's guts or do you want to do it?' The Hound grinned and this time Jon didn't flinch but smiled back. Then Jon picked up the empty wine skin and threw it so it hit the sell-sword on the forehead. He woke up with a grunt and a gurgle, indignant and surprised. Once he had stopped swearing and stamped out peace settled on the kitchen and Sandor and Jon closed their eyes and finally got some sleep.