A/N: This is a long WIP, friends. I have 14 chapters written and 23-ish planned, so stay tuned!

This story is AU after Jon Arryn's death. Lord Tywin has been named Hand of the King, and our story begins after he has returned to King's Landing to resume his post.

Sandor could not believe how buggering cold it was. They were far enough north now, that it snowed almost every day, although it was still summer. The Neck was a week or so behind them, but it seemed that Winterfell was no closer. Sandor would have cursed his luck if he had ever had any.

He had been training in the yard with Jaime, when a page, red-faced and breathless, stumbled in and announced that Lord Tywin required his presence at once.

He couldn't remember the last time Lord Tywin spoke directly to him, as his orders almost always came from Queen Cersei. What could require an audience with his liege lord? Sandor remembered allowing himself a brief fantasy of hearing of his brother's grisly death, but Lord Tywin's news had turned out to be much stranger and even more unlikely.

Sandor could do nothing but stare in disbelief. Had it been any other man but Lord Tywin Lannister delivering such a message, he would have taken it for a terrible jape. But Lord Tywin did not ever smile, much less attempt to make others do so. The rolled parchment lay innocently on the table in front of his lord, with the Stark direwolf on the broken gray seal plainly visible.

Sandor was being called to Winterfell by Lord Eddard Stark.

"Some Northern sorcery has named you, Sandor Clegane, as the soul bonded mate for one of Lord Stark's daughters." Here Lord Tywin sneered at the parchment, "...the elder, Sansa is her name. Let me be the first to congratulate you on marrying far above your station."

Sandor could think of nothing to do but nod, and so that's what he did. But his thoughts were thrust into turmoil. Marriage? To a highborn lady? Such notions were utterly foreign to him; so impossible as to be beyond even fantasy. Whores and serving girls flinched at the sight of his face; ladies of the court couldn't bear to look at him at all. He was no knight and only the second son of a very minor house. The idea that any woman would marry him was so foolish that Sandor had never even wished for it, in even his most fevered wine dreams. His only aspiration had ever been to one day be the one to end his brother's life. But at Lord Tywin's mocking congratulations, he couldn't help but feel a kind of lightness in his chest. Others would call it hope, but Sandor hated lying to himself, and hope was nothing but a lie.

"Ned Stark is a savage and a fool besides; he puts the future of his house in the hands of this so-called greenseeing – nothing more than black magic perpetuated by the smallfolk in the North. Nevertheless, if he sees fit to waste his eldest daughter's hand on superstitious nonsense, it is no concern of mine. Sandor Clegane, you are going North. But you will remain a Westerman."

Sandor didn't move, but allowed his good eyebrow to raise just a bit. "My lord?"

"The Starks are sending an envoy here to collect you. You will return with them to Winterfell and take part in whatever barbaric ceremony is required of you to 'bond' with the Stark girl. They will expect you to become a member of the Stark household, and of course you must give up your post as Joffrey's sworn shield. But you are no Northman, and the Cleganes are still sworn to Castlerly Rock. Do you understand me?"

Sandor understood perfectly. He was to be a Lannister man amongst the wolves of Winterfell. Why Lord Tywin would need to spy on the Starks was beyond him, but also didn't concern him. The Starks were nothing to him. Moreover this soul bonding sounded like just another lie...one perpetuated by tradition and religion, which in Sandor's experience were the worst kind.

"Aye, my lord, I understand." Sandor nodded with a slight bow, and stood again, waiting to be dismissed.

"I do not know when we will have need of you, but I expect the fervent loyalty you have shown our house will not be cooled by the snows of Winterfell, no matter how long you stay in the North."

"As you say my lord."

Lord Tywin nodded, and told Sandor to be ready to leave as soon as the Stark escort arrived. His parting words were to remind him that while he would be leaving King's Landing for good, he would never leave the employ of the Lannisters.