A/N: Alright, ladies and gentlemen, here I am once again with another GOT story. I hope you all enjoy it. Also, a special thanks to white pedal for looking over this.

Disclaimer: I do not own GOT or any of the characters, George R.R. Martin does, with HBO having the rights to the screen-work.

…

Sansa hurried to her chamber as she heard another crash come from outside, followed by another wave of screams from the men outside.

She tried to reassure herself that if Stannis's forces managed to sack the city, she would be safe. After all, he and Robb were allies, and surely Robb wouldn't take kindly to any harm befalling his sister.

Even still, this did nothing to quell the dread coursing through her entire being.

The eldest Stark daughter smiled weakly when she saw the doll her father had given her. She had still been angry with him for killing her direwolf Lady at the time and rebuffed him when he presented it to her, stating she was too old for dolls.

Oh, how she regretted it, and what she wouldn't give to have him here now!

"Is the lady starting to panic?"

Sansa whirled around to see none other than Sandor Clegane, or the Hound as most referred to him, leaning against the wall, reeking of blood, sweat, and wine.

"What are you doing here?" Sansa asked, clutching her doll to her chest.

"I'm not staying," the Hound answered.

For some reason, this troubled Sansa. Though he frightened her, the Hound was one of the only people in Kings Landing that she actually felt was being honest with her. She didn't always like his hateful demeanor, but she hadn't forgotten the day he had wrapped his cloak around her when Ser Meryn Trant had torn her dress before the whole court at Joffrey's command, her 'punishment' for her brother's actions against the king.

Nor had she forgotten how he had been the only member of the Kingsguard go back to find her during the riot in Flea Bottom following Princess Myrcella's departure to Dorne. When those men had attempted to have their way with her, after which she feared to even think of what they would have done to her. She could still feel that hatred with which they stared at her. She, who was an embodiment of what they could never have. Perhaps they justified what they were going to do to her by convincing themselves that she deserved it.

But then, he had come. He had pulled the first man off of her and dispatched him with ease before making short work of the others.

"Where are you going?" the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.

The Hound turned and she could sworn his gaze softened slightly as it landed upon her, but in the dim light it was hard to say for sure.

"Somewhere that isn't burning," he answered simply. "North maybe…"

She felt her heart drop into her stomach. Was he only saying this to torment her?

"I could take you with me," his next words caught her off-guard. "Could take you to Winterfell. I'd keep you safe. They're all afraid of me."

"I…I'll be safe here. Stannis won't hurt me," Sansa stated with more confidence than she felt.

The Hound's face twisted with rage as he clasped her arm.

"Look at me!" he snarled. "Stannis is a killer. The Lannisters are killers. Your father was a killer. Your brother is a killer. Your sons will be killers someday. The world is built by killers, so you'd better get used to looking at them, girl."

Despite the fear coursing through her, Sansa fixed her gaze upon the Hound.

"You won't hurt me," she said, this time believing her own words, but to her surprise.

"No, Little Bird," the Hound's voice softened slightly. "I won't hurt you."

With that, he turned to leave.

As he did so, Sansa felt a slight tremor. What if this was her chance? He had offered to take her to Winterfell…she could go home!

'Say something!' something screamed in her head as the Hound opened the door.

"Wait!" she called, a hand outstretched ever so slightly. "I…want to go home…I…I'll go with you…"

…

"Keep your hood on, girl," the Hound rasped. "If you want to keep that head of yours, keep it covered."

Sansa frowned, but pulled the hood of her cloak over her fiery red hair.

"Not too many redheads out here," her unlikely companion snorted. "Last thing you'll want is anyone to see you, then you'll be headed right back to that cage."

Sansa bristled, but said nothing. After all, she had chosen to go with him.

A part of her couldn't help but fear that this was all some kind of a trick. The Hound was Joffrey's sworn-shield, at least he had been.

But then, she remembered what he had told her once; "A dog will die for you, but never lie to you."

"Thank you, ser," she whispered, unsure of what else to say.

The Hound scoffed.

"I thought I told you, Little Bird, I'm no Ser."

"Then what am I to call you?" Sansa questioned, turning to face him slightly.

"What I am," he answered simply, eyes trained ahead. "A dog."

"You're not a dog," the Stark girl replied. "You're a man. A warrior."

The Hound chuckled softly.

"I'm not one of the knights from those pretty little songs your septa filled your head with," he said softly. "After meeting the knights of Kings Landing, you should know those knights are nothing but a bunch of cu-"

"You're not," Sansa interrupted.

"I'm not a knight," Sandor sneered. "I piss on their vows."

"They don't honor their vows," Sansa looked down, remembering how Ser Meryn Trant had beaten her that day in the throne room. Had Joffrey not told him to leave her face, who knows what she would look like now?

As this thought entered her mind, she stole a glance at the side of the Hound's face and she immediately felt a sense of guilt. Nothing Meryn Trant could have done,to her would ever come compare to the scarred flesh the Hound had borne nearly all his life. And it hadn't been the knight in service to a madman who had done it, it had been Sandor's own older brother.

Sansa couldn't imagine anyone doing something so cruel to someone so young, especially not their own flesh and blood. Robb would have never hurt her that way, or any of their siblings for that matter. Nor would Arya, even when she was at her angriest with Sansa. Really, the worst she had ever done was stuff sheep dung in Sansa's bedding.

Not even Jon, with whom she had never really been close or affectionate to, would have ever done such a thing.

'No wonder he hates his brother so much,' she thought to herself.

At that moment, thoughts of her own family began to enter her mind. How could she face them after what,had happened? Would they understand why she had done what sje did?

She tried to convince herself, but she knew Robb would likely be furious and her mother disappointed. And what of little Bran and Rickon? And Arya...

Sansa felt a pain in her chest as she thought of her little sister. In spite of everything, she was still family and Sansa hadn't seen her since their father's death. She didn't know where Arya was or if she was even still-

"How long until we reach Winterfell?" She asked, forcing herself to quash the question she didn't even want to imagine the answer to.

"Be a little over a month if we took the Kingsroad," the Hound answered. "But we're not taking the Kingsroad. Bound to be Lannister men all over."

Sansa sighed. Even now that she was free, home was still so far away.

...

...

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the first chapter. And I do hope you enjoyed it. The next chapter will be out on Monday, February 24th. Until then, everyone. And no flames thank you. The Hound doesn't like them and neither do I.