A/N: Welcome back SanSan fans! Thank you all for your patience. Please note that I do not own anything except for this plot, Borin, and Captain Janier. Thank you to all that have followed/favorited this story

It was a week after their conversation in the stall and Sandor still could not believe that it had actually happened. There were times where he would wake himself in the middle of the night thinking it had all been a dream. Nothing so good had ever happened to him and it took everything he had to realize this was his new reality. I love her and she loves me. His mantra from that night was now a constant in his life. Sandor smiled, knowing that Sansa's declaration was not the only good thing to have happened. While everyone else had slept, he had found Borin amongst a couple of his companions lounging away in the kitchens. Sandor quietly thanked any of the gods who were listening that he had been there to hear what Borin had said about Sansa. He knew what was wrong now. The fact that Borin had successfully taken advantage of a vulnerable woman, his own Little Bird, boiled Sandor's blood. The only question that remained was exactly how far did Borin go? The man was known for his great exaggerations, but something had definitely happened and it was not good. It had been fairly dark, most of the candles had been snuffed for the night, so Sandor did not realize to what extent the damage he had inflicted upon his rival until he saw the next day. Not so pretty anymore, eh?

There had been a lot on his mind during that week and Sandor had finally decided on a plan the previous night. As it stood, he knew that Ned Stark would never allow him to court his daughter. He was from a lower house. He was from the south. He had no title. Let's not mention the fact that he was The Hound. If the circumstances changed, however, they might just stand a chance. She loves me. Although neither one would say anything out loud at this vulnerable, but exciting time, both knew what was coming and what was on the others mind if he succeeded. Marriage.

Sandor ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep, nervous breath of air. It chilled him to the bone. He had never expected to come to this path in his life, never had thought of himself as the marrying type. Can I actually go through with this? Can I actually ask her, Sansa Stark, to marry me one day? Slow down, Clegane. One step at a time. Don't get ahead of yourself. He knew he could support them, but perhaps not in the way that she was accustomed to and that worried him. I haven't even asked her and I am already bloody nervous. Seven hells. Would she even want to marry me? Sandor knew she was genuine when she had said that she loved him, but would it be enough? Would she choose that life knowing its downside? Am I taking things too fast?

Their relationship had started off slowly, but it had grown from a deep, mutual friendship to love. Of course I want to marry her. He was trying to convince himself. One thing he would never admit, even privately, was just how scared he was. He could not lose her. What if she says no? The only thing in his favor that he could count on was the fact that he was now head of House Clegane and not his brother. He was not a Lord, but he could call upon Clegane men for battle. Even though there were only a few dozen or so, it was something Lord Stark or even Stannis would appreciate in this war they were fighting. As far as Sandor was concerned, they could have him and his men. He would go on and fight their battle for the chance to win Sansa's hand.

This plan had better work. Everything depended on it. Sandor did not know what he would do if he failed. He couldn't bear to have this only joy in his dark world torn away from him. He took another deep breath and thought of Sansa sitting by the fire embroidering. It was an image that had calmed him many times before and he relied upon it now to settle his nerves as the task ahead of him was becoming more real by the second. It had to be done.

The image disappeared when he rounded a corner in the corridor and a hall boy ran straight into him. Sandor did not even take a misstep, but the poor boy responded as if he had run into one of the walls instead.

"I apologize, milord…Ser….Hound," the boy stammered.

Sandor rolled his eyes and grunted in annoyance that he had been interrupted. He had been living in Winterfell for months now and most everyone was still afraid to come across him, let alone have such a personal confrontation as physically running into him. The boy had dropped the pail he was carrying and bent over to quickly retrieve it and its spilled contents.

"Please forgive me, I wasn't lookin' you see and I apologize somethin' fierce." The boy can't even meet my eye.

"Be on your way, boy," Sandor growled. He allowed himself a small, brief smile has the hall boy ran off in the direction he had come from, tripping over his own feet.

Once he was out of sight, Sandor swallowed and looked down the corridor towards the great hall. He closed his eyes and reassured himself this was the only way to win her. With one final push of determination, Sandor opened his eyes and walked determinedly to the large doors and stepped inside. Just as he had suspected, Lord Stark was meeting with Robb, Captain Janier, Maester Luwin, and Stannis. They were standing around a long table in the center of the room pouring over various maps and scrolls. A couple of Stannis' men stood around the hall as well. Well, so much for a private talk. Woulda been nice, though.

Ned had been the first to see him. "Clegane," he said in acknowledgement and took a step away from the table, "what can I do for you?"

"Lord Stark, I have come on a personal matter. Would you have a moment?" He had practiced this in his mind for hours, hoping to get it just right. Perfect combination of seriousness, but also respectful. He likes things like that.

Surprised at such an eloquent request coming from The Hound, the other men around the table looked up from what they were discussing. Ned nodded his head in agreement. "Alright, but make it brief if you can."

Well, here goes nothing. Sandor felt his palms grown sweaty and his hands clenched naturally into fists. Not even before battle had he ever felt this nervous. Get on with it you damn fool!

"With your permission, I would like to remove myself from my duties as Lady Sansa's sworn shield." There, I said it. No going back now.

The silence in the room was deafening. Only the crackle of the fire could be heard. It was as if everyone had stopped breathing and were shuffling their feet where they stood. Those few seconds that followed felt like an eternity. Ned looked at Sandor in an almost amused confusion. "What?"

Sandor growled under his breath in frustration. Why does this have to be so fucking hard?

"I said-"

"We heard what you said," Ned interrupted, "but I have to ask why you want to do this? Your request is completely unexpected."

Sandor did not respond, but saw the realization slowly spread across Lord Stark's face. Well, now he knows.

"No," he said firmly, pointing his finger at Sandor. "No, I will not allow this. Do you dare-"

"Lord Stark, if I may," Stannis interrupted, taking a step around the table. There was a tense silence in the room and Sandor began to shift on his feet. Something isn't right. What in Seven Hells is going on? His eyes shifted from side to side, noticing that the Baratheon soldiers were standing with hands on their weapons, ready to strike. It was too late. Nothing could have prepared him for what happened next.

Stannis raised his hand suddenly and dropped it just as quickly, a gesture to his men to proceed with their plans. Sandor let out a growl as the soldiers closest to him grabbed his arms.

"What the fuck is going on?" he shouted across the hall. "Let go you craven bastards!"

Sandor struggled against them, but he was only one man and could only do so much without a weapon. His heart was racing, only this time it was not anxiety but a cold fear of the unknown. Another soldier had approached him and shoved his hand into the tunic he wore. The one Sansa made for me. Sandor could feel the man's fingers searching for something, but as to what he could not say. Happy that he had nothing to hide, he looked up at Stannis and began to grin. Good luck with whatever it is you are searching for. The look that Stannis reciprocated with was chilling. It was the smug look of someone who knows they have won. Sandor's grin quickly faded and his eyes opened wide as the soldier who had been searching him came away with a folded piece of parchment.

"Here, my King," he said, handing the letter to Stannis and then bowed, taking his rightful place back amongst the other armed men. Stannis opened the letter slowly, his gaze not leaving Sandor's face until it was completely unfolded. His eyes skimmed the letter for a brief moment, his look upon reading its contents was more of a confirmation than a discovery.

"Just as I suspected," Stannis said, breaking the silence. He looked up from the letter and handed it to Ned who quickly began to devour it. "Sandor Clegane, I am placing you under arrest for treason."