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The cold winds shook the windows of Winterfell, but the Great Hall was warm and the Northern lords were too busy at council to take notice of it. Their attention was fixed on the head table where a woman in handsome furs led the meeting. They had come to know Sansa Stark as the Red Wolf. The North and the Vale had placed their faith in her to lead them through the bitter winter whilst her cousin, Jon, rode south to treat with the Dragon Queen.
Lord Glover was mid-sentence when a ruckus could be heard from outside the hall which was followed by frighteningly large a man barging into the room. He was gruff and badly scarred. As he started towards Sansa, many of the lords swiftly stood between him and their lady, creating a human wall and drawing their swords. Yet the room stilled as the lady and the beast took each other in because in that moment, all the years stretched out between them. Not much shocked the Lady of Winterfell anymore but her eyes widened in surprise and her lips parted slightly. She had believed him to be dead, killed by her sworn guard who now stood close behind her. This person in front of her was recognisably the angry man with a heated temper and a fowl mouth she once knew. But his eyes seemed softer and time had both worn him down and built him back up. When he last saw her, she was a frightened child, trying to survive the lion’s den. Now he could see a strong, regal and powerful woman. No longer was she to be moulded and manipulated. Now she led the pack.
A couple of guards ran into the hall, profusely apologising to their lady.
“He forced his way in Lady Stark-”
“He insisted on an audience-”
“We said no-”
“We said we had to ask you first my lady-”
Sansa held up a hand to hush them and immediately their babbling ceased. Her sister sat next to her on her right muttered in undertone “Didn’t I say, you needed better guards?” This evoked a slight smile from Sansa as she finally tore her eyes away from the man who was once known as The Hound. The tension eased as she gestured the for the lords to stand down.
“It’s okay,” she said as her eyes met Sandor Clegane’s once again, “he won’t hurt me.”
“No Little bird,” he replied softly, “I won’t hurt you.”