The Lady of Winterfell slowly strolled the battlement through the dawn light, as she had countless times. The air, however, was different this morning. The bite of cold she had grown accustomed to over the many long years of winter was now merely a nip.
The sky was clear and bright in the early morning dawn. The first rays of unobscured sun rose over the land. Sansa stopped and leaned over the battlement to catch a few of the sun's warm rays upon her face. Her breath hitched sharply as a small earthquake rolled inside her. It as if a shelf of ice in the center of her chest had cracked, ready to melt.
She had noticed the signs throughout the last months. A slight rise in temperature. Snows that didn't accumulate as easily. The winds had been quiet. The sky had been a slightly lighter shade of grey. But there had been no day yet like today. Sansa blinked back a tear. It had been eleven years since she had felt the direct sun.
She thought about her people, almost starved out a year and a half back until the road became passable in a stroke of luck just long enough for a few carts of provisions to reach them. But hunger was nothing compared to all they had endured during the years prior. The army of the dead had wreaked grave havoc on the North. Then, four years later mutiny arose within the walls of Winterfell. Seven men had to be put to death, driven mad by the cold and hunger. Eleven years was too long to keep a thousand northerners inside the same gates.
Sansa had endured by embodying the cold as her talisman. She served and she led with an icy, closed demeanor. Only a few within the walls could claim to truly know Sansa Stark.
Jon, now upon the Iron Throne some six years, had long since given up on his interest in her finding a suitor and birthing an heir. "I will never marry again," she had written on more scrolls to King's Landing than she could count. Jon meant well and she understood his urging. He was never heavy handed, merely, he was a strategist. This requests had slowed in the last year as she had reached thirty years of age. She found the number to be a cloak of safety.
Logically, she agreed with him. As the eldest Stark it was necessary to prepare for an heir, but it simply did not feel possible. The idea of letting another not just into her life, but specifically near her body, left her with a shudder of long buried trauma. She did not touch that place inside of her and she wasn't going to start anytime soon.
Sansa laughed darkly to herself as the ever intruding dream of her youth began to rise in her mind in the early morning light as a challenge. What a child of summer she had been to believe in gallantry, chivalry and romance. Back then she had seen it as her birthright as the eldest daughter of a great house. Now, looking out over the lands of the North, her birthright felt more apparent. More than the eldest daughter of a great house, she was a woman of the north. Composed. Cold. Calculated. Kept safe only by her own insistence and strength.
But she could not deny that in her quietest moments the fancies of her youth returned to her. They felt like intruders and she shook them away as the far off memories of a past life. Nevertheless, the intruders beckoned from a locked door in the back of her mind in dark nights when she was alone. In the rare instances where she would let it take her, it was as though she was a bird, flying above the alternate world in which her innocence had remained intact. She was always far away, always watching, never in her own dream. She would circle above a young Lady Sansa enjoying lemon cakes with a gallant Lord. She would watch from afar a young Lady Sansa held a babe at her breast. She would see the calm serenity on the girl's face. It was a lovely dream…
'It must be the warmth,' she thought darkly as she returned to the present moment and banished the thoughts from her mind yet again.
Her vision came into focus on the middle distance where her blank stare had been fixed. The plains rolled away from Winterfell as far as the eye could see. Pure white, as always, as she scanned the horizon line, or so she thought. Sansa gasped and squinted. It could not be…
"Green," A voice said behind her, making her jump, "Beg pardon, my lady. I did not mean to frighten you."
Sansa breathed a sigh of relief at the familiarity of his voice, "Not at all, Ser Podrick. I just didn't hear your footsteps. Lost in thought."
"I'll make sure to wear steel boots next time so as not to frighten you again," Podrick said with a smile. He looked back out over the battlement and took a deep, chest expanding breath, "I have to admit I never thought I would see the color green again."
"Neither did I," Sansa breathed, "It seems we weathered the storm."
Podrick nodded and they fell into a companionable silence for a long while as they surveyed the sliver of green earth peeking out along the southern horizon. It was not a surprise to find him here. Sansa knew Podrick to be an early riser. They had that in common. She had run into him at dawn many times throughout years of the Long Winter. A long winter breeds familiarity between the unlikeliest of pairs.
"Do you hear that?" Sansa whispered suddenly. Birdsong filled the sky. Not the cold and wretched cawing of a crow or raven, but the sweet trill of a song bird. A ripple of exultant shivers ran down her body at the sweet tones. She allowed her eyes to flutter closed and she inhaled deeply. Even the air smelled different.
"This feels like the best kind of magic," Podrick said quietly as the birds continued their song.
"It does," Sansa replied. She returned her gaze to the horizon line far to the south. Quiet descended upon the battlement once more.
"I think I'll ride out that way today, just to see for myself," Podrick said as he pulled off his gloves and stretched his fingers in the sun.
"May I join you?" Sansa blurted out, her lips moving before she could think.
"Oh, well, Of…of course, my lady…" Podrick replied with surprise.
Sansa was silent for a moment, taken aback by her instinct. She composed herself, "I'm a good rider. Don't worry. I won't slow you down," she said with a playful sneer.
Podrick laughed freely, "That never crossed my mind. When would you like to leave?"
"Winterfell can hold itself down for the morning. I'd rather go soon… before I have a chance to talk myself out of it."
"Alright," Podrick chuckled, "I'll ready the horses, if it pleases you?" Sansa nodded. Podrick bowed silently and took his leave.
Once he was out of sight, the weight of what she had just agreed to hit her straight in the heart. How long had it been since she had ventured away from Winterfell? Two years? Three? It was hard to say. An odd rush filled her from her toes. It felt like a strong drink. She breathed deeply once again. It felt like the first full breath she had taken in years.
Sansa found Podrick in the courtyard of the holdfast, saddling her horse.
"If it pleases you, my lady, I took the liberty of packing a bit of food and drink. If I judged correctly I believe our destination will take us much of the morning to reach," Podrick said as she arrived.
"That is very thoughtful, thank you," she said as she prepared to mount her horse. Podrick extended a hand to assist her. She used his grip for balance and pulled herself upon her mare unsteadily, "It has been quiet some time since I've ridden," she laughed as she clumsily situated herself on the saddle.
"I noticed nothing," he replied smoothly as he went to his own horse. Podrick mounted, gathered his reins and squeezed his horse gently to depart. Sansa nudged her own horse along and followed him toward the gate.
"Open the gate!" The guard called. At once the gates swung open and Sansa and Podrick were on their way.
Their horses fell into an easy lope through the crackling remains of snow that still crusted the ground amid the open plain south of Winterfell. The air felt fresh and a light breeze billowed her hood. She lowered it to feel the sun warm the back of her hair.
Sansa was instantly gratified in her unlikely decision this morning, "I never quite enjoyed riding as a young girl, and I definitely didn't enjoy it during the winter, but I must say I am very much enjoying this ride," she called out to him as they crested a small hill.
"It's different when you're riding for leisure, isn't it?" He replied.
"Leisure," she scoffed, "what a concept."
He laughed, "I know, but we must get used to it. A peaceful spring without war is upon us."
"Whatever will we do with ourselves?" she joked.
"Make up for lost time, I guess. I'd say we're doing a good job of it this morning. This way, my lady," Podrick turned his horse slightly to the left in order to go due south.
The sun rose spectacularly as they rode throughout the morning. The snow beneath continued its thaw, leaving behind into small pools of water for her horse's hooves to splash.
Sansa watched Podrick as he rode in front of her. He was a good rider. That had not always been the case, she recounted to herself with a silent chuckle.. She remembered a day when they were young and knew one another in King's Landing, so many lifetimes ago. His saddle loosened so intensely that it slid to the underside of his horse. She remembered watching in horror as the young boy held on for dear life, the horse's hooves kicking dangerously close to his face. Eventually, Bronn grabbed hold of the horse and save him. He suffered ridicule for that day for the remainder of her time in King's Landing.
Podrick was almost nothing like the boy she had once known, to the point where she rarely remembered that she had even known him back then. The man before her sat straight in his saddle. Sword at the ready, though there was little expectation that it would be needed today. She had seen him fight and kill in her defense, and he had grown to hold counsel with the highest quality befit his Knight's status. He had a squire of his own now. She had watched him with the Umber boy a time or two. He seemed eager to pass along his knowledge. He had exuded a kind and patient manner with the boy.
That was the one thing had remained the same, Sansa reflected as they climbed a hill. He had never ceased to be unflappably good hearted. It had always been a wonder to her; his unadulterated honor and calm kindness. She had known few men so genuine. For years she found his demeanor irksome. Naivety, she called it with a judgmental eye. Now, however, seeing him through the long bend time, she found that she respected him greatly. He was the only man, afterall, whom she felt calm around, besides her own kin.
Their horses crested the hill. Sansa's heart rose to her throat. She could see it now: consistent sprigs of green along a small moving river. It couldn't be real. She had long since forgotten the sights, smells and any feelings other than cold white waste. There was green below the horse's hooves. A tear sprung from her eye.
"My lady, would you like to stop?" Podrick called back.
"A little further. Toward the river? Gods, this is beautiful," she replied with a rising glee. She took a deep breath and something deep inside of her broke free. With a thrill, Sansa surprised herself as she kicked her horse and unleased its power at full speed. She galloped through the fresh prairie with a billowing laugh. The wind whipped her long braid. She felt almost as if she could fly.
The horse slowed to a trot as they neared the river. Podrick was not far behind, running at a gallop himself until he drew close. Sansa disembarked and led her mare to the water for a drink.
"Quite the speed you have on that mare; I could hardly keep up!" Podrick called breathlessly as he dismounted and followed her lead to the water.
Sansa failed to contain her smile, "I have never enjoyed riding a horse more than I have today."
The two stood in silence looking over the green of the river bank while their horses quenched their thirst. It wasn't much, just the very beginnings of growth. However, to her it seemed like a lush forest.
"May I?" Podrick interjected quietly as he lightly gathered the reins in her hand.
"Oh, yes. Thank you," she replied, and let go. Podrick nodded and led both horses to a tree and took to the work of tying them up. Sansa returned her sight to the river. The water was clear as crystal and it was probably colder than the Wall itself. A river of ice melt. She kneeled against the bank and dipped her hands in for a drink. It was the cleanest water she had ever tasted.
"Pardon me, my lady? Would you like to sit?" Podrick asked. He unfastened his cloak and laid it carefully on the ground.
"You are a true Gentleman, Ser Podrick" Sansa complimented as she sat.
"Well, you are a true Lady, my lady," Podrick replied as he took a seat next to her on the cloak.
"You'd be surprised," she said darkly, "That does not mean to many what it seems to mean to you."
"I know..." She looked up and caught his gaze at his pause. Podrick faltered for a moment, "But it's what you deserve."
The statement was so simple. So straightforward. The sincerity in his eyes disarmed her, "Well, Thank you."
Podrick nodded a silent response. A pause built between the two as birds trilled in the distance and the water rushed. Her cheeks felt warm.
"Are you hungry?" he asked. He reached into his satchel and placed a small wheel of cheese, a knife, dried meat and half a loaf at the edge of his cloak, "It's nothing fancy but it was all I could find in the kitchens this morning,"
"It's perfect," she replied, cutting him off with a smile.
"Alright then." Podrick cut into the cheese and handed her a piece as Sansa took in the surroundings.
"I remember this place from my childhood. Father used to bring us to this very bank. Arya, Bran, Jon and Robb used to jump from that tree right there into the river."
"Not you?" Podrick asked, handing her the loaf.
She cut herself a slice and laughed, "No, not me. I was a proper little lady. I just wanted to pick flowers and skip and play marriage with my friend Jeyne."
"How does one play marriage?" he asked.
"Oh, well – " Sansa began to explain her childhood games to Podrick, which launched them on a long and winding conversation about the last summer, before the war. They traded stories of their long forgotten youths. It was cathartic, to be in this place, to feel a small sliver of peace, and to remember days of innocence. So many memories began to rush forward that she had kept at bay for years.
"I can't say I ever played anything like marriage as a young boy. I was more focused on trying, and failing honestly, to be a Knight," he said with a chuckle.
"But you are a Knight," she responded perplexedly.
"I… was a slow learner," he said with a laugh.
"True," she replied slowly with a smile.
Podrick laughed sheepishly and looked off across the water, the sun alight across his face. She noticed small flecks of white that had appeared in his dark beard throughout the winter years. They seemed to have arisen replace the youthful roundness of his cheeks that had faded with age. He had become quite handsome in his manhood. Sansa quickly changed the subject within her own mind.
"Now that the warmth is returning, do you think you'll return home?" Sansa asked.
Podrick reacted with a look of surprise. He paused for a moment before saying, "I can't say I've thought about it, my lady. The Westerlands have long since stopped feeling like home..." He stole a glance her way, before saying quietly, "I dare say I've spent more years in the North now than I have anywhere else. This started to feel like home long ago."
"I meant no offense, my apologies," Sansa stammered as she took in how her question was received, "Of course I understand. The North has been incredibly glad to have you."
Podrick smiled kindly, "Thank you, Lady Sansa."
"I just… it's curious," she continued, "Most foreign men who end up in the North leave at the first sign of a cleared path. There is so little up here for anyone."
Podrick turned to her fully, "I wouldn't say that's true, my lady. The North is a beautiful country, and peaceful… when it isn't crawling with the dead."
Sansa laughed darkly, "Any place is peaceful when it isn't crawling with the dead."
Podrick shook his head, "You know as well as I that this place is different. I like the quiet up here. Everything is just a bit simpler. Straightforward. I do not enjoy the connivery of the south."
"Jon complains about it in every scroll he sends me," she sighed.
"A man after my own heart," Podrick replied, "In the North when someone says something they mean it. In the South you have to ask five men to find out if what the first man told you is truth or deception."
"As I said, the North is happy to have you," Sansa replied as she felt The Lady of Winterfell take over the conversation, "Now that the thaw is here, however, you'll be wanting a home befit for a Knight, no? I can look at the registers and see what lands are available?"
Podrick turned to Sansa in surprise. A look appeared on his face that she had never before seen in all of the years that they knew each other. He almost seemed hurt, "Forgive me, my lady," he said carefully, "but I have not stayed in the North in wait for you to bestow lands upon me."
Sansa was taken aback, "Oh? Then… why have you stayed?"
"To serve you," he responded with unmasked sincerity. His look was disarming. Insistent.
"But… you're not pledged to my service…" Sansa stammered in confusion.
Podrick was silent. His face fell. He opened his mouth to speak but words seemed to fail him. He quickly turned away from her, "Forgive me, my lady. I have overstepped," he said quietly.
She regarded him with confusion. She noticed the back of his neck, flushed a deep crimson. She watched his hand fidget with the material of his cloak on the ground in the awkward silence.
Piece by piece, the puzzle came together in her mind. She took in the river and the greenery he had recommended they ride to. The horse he had carefully saddled for her. She looked down upon his cloak, laid upon the muck of the wet ground in order for her to sit cleanly. She regarded the picnic he had prepared with her in mind. Her whole body suddenly felt as hot as summer in full bloom.
The man before her was not in her service. He hadn't been for years since Lady Brienne had passed. Yet he had stayed. He had lent his hand to the winter's needs with unwavering kindness, grace and comradery.
A trill of fear raced down the spine of the Lady of Winterfell. Her breath grew shallow. But before she could fully pull her wits about her Sansa, the summer child, arose from the depths of her being.
"Forgive me," Podrick pleaded again with a hint of agony as he turned back to her, "I—" his sentence trailed off into silence. Sansa's hand now rested upon his. A thick silence blanketed over them. Her heart began an unexpected attempt to escape from her chest as she locked her eyes with his. As though in a trance, she leaned into his space. The pull felt magnetic. She hovered for a treacherous moment before placing a light kiss on his lips.
Sansa pulled away slightly to find Podrick's face alight with sheer shock. But it didn't last long. In an instant she felt both of his hands cupping the contours of her face. He reconnected his lips with Sansa's with such a voracity that she moaned in surprise and almost fell back against the ground. His lips were sweet yet ravenous, leaving her breathless as his arm wrapped firmly around the small of her back and held her in a tight embrace. In this moment it was clear: Sansa had never truly been kissed.
The Lady of Winterfell, with her isolated calculation, had no place here on the green bank of the river. Sansa cast aside the reins she had upon her own mind and melted fully into his arms. The feeling was dizzying. Sansa fingers found Podrick's thick hair as her lips wrestled passionately with his. Every corner of her body felt like fire. Podrick's teeth found her lip and nibbled slightly, eliciting from her an unexpectant moan. He responded in kind, pulling her firmly to the ground with him.
Sansa felt woozy. Overwhelmed. Sublime. She pulled away slightly and breathed against his lips. Podrick lightly brushed a stray hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Sansa opened her eyes. He lay below her, his kind eyes radiating.
"Are you alright, my lady?" he whispered against her lips. She nodded silently as she elicited a small airy laugh.
"I… wasn't expecting this," she replied, her gaze entranced within his.
"That makes two of us," Podrick breathed, and his lips connected again with hers.
The birds sang in the trees near the bank and heralded in the first rays of spring, as the new lovers mingled below.