He watched over her as he ever did.

There had been so many changes since they first met, all those years ago. They were both so much older, and hopefully wiser. She was no longer his "little bird", though that didn't stop him calling her that when he thrust into his fist every night.

No, she was not his "little bird" so much as she was now the "Wolf Queen".

Some even refering to her as the "Ice Queen".

She currently sat in Winterfell's restored throne room, with her missing sister's massive direwolf Nimeria at her side, as ever. If one went to see the Queen of the North, two things were certain. One, that you would find a massive direwolf at her feet, and two, that you would find her even bigger "Hound" behind her. And he would be watching silently, carefully regarding those that would kneel at her feet, and otherwise appraising his queen with a look on his face as though he hadn't quite figured her out yet.

It was well known that Sandor Clegane was in love with Sansa Stark. And it was known by everyone but him that his feelings for his Queen were mainly unrequited.

He still fights, though his limp limits his skills. Geoffery Snow, a local bastard, is as good with a sword as he is with his wits - very good. Sometimes, when Sandor finds himself in too much pain from his leg, he now lets himself be beat from time to time. Though not when she is watching.

Never when she is watching.

He supposes he still wants to delude himself that he is still at the height of his skills, still young and stong and fierce. Though he may only be three-score and six, he feels old. The crows feet that have developed on the left side of his face don't really help the notion either.

He had even found a silver hair the other day.

The reason why he never lets her watch him fight is the one time she did, he lost to Geoffery. He had just been about to call an end to the spar when she apperared, suprising him and costing him his dignity. He had slipped in the mud, and been forced to yield. She looked over him like he was nothing, congratulating Geoffery and telling him to "work Clegane harder". She had later calling him to her chambers to berate him for losing.

"You're supposed to be the Captain of my Guard! You are the Commander of my Queensguard, how much hope do I have for my life if you cannot even spar against a bastard with no training?!" She railed at him. "How can I hope to stand against an attack or an assassination attempt Clegane?!"

She had let him leave not long after, one she had given his burned cheek a good slap. When he settled into his bed that night, he felt the tears running down his face. How could he protect her? She was right. He was old, an ugly dog, finishing the era that had been the prime of his life.

He was not worthy being near her.

He had cried himself to sleep that night.

He did not know when or where the voices came from, but they would come to him every night, just as he would be about to fall asleep, warm and sated. Telling him he wasn't good enough, she would never pick him, he had nothing to offer her, that he had overstayed his welcome.

All he knew was that he had to tell his queen how he felt, if only to find some relief from the voices.

Jon had sent a raven asking for more men. His queen sent for him to meet her in her chambers to discuss the letter.

He knelt before her as he always did now. The dog kneeling before its master.

She asked him whether they had enough men to send to the Wall along with enough to keep Winterfell well armed.

Yes they did.

And he was to decide who stayed or went.

This could be his chance!

She sent him from her sight to think over the list for the night.

The next night he arrived to tell her his list, which was well thought over, for the most part.

Is it wrong that he chose to send all the young good looking boys to the Wall?

It probably was.

But it was also selfish. The one thing she cannot abide.

She rallied at him and sent him from her sight, with his tail between his legs. He would not be able to take this for much longer.