Disclaimer: All characters belong to George R. R. Martin. And the song belongs to Hooverphonic, I claim no ownership nor do I profit from this fanwork.

Note: Using the 24 times prompt table. Title taken from Hooverphonic's "Encoded Love" song. Canon divergence, post A Dance with Dragons.

So hard to break encoded love
It's all I get from you
~Encoded Love, Hooverphonic.

Time Changes.

Sandor wasn't sure what to make of this girl. Woman, he corrected himself; Sansa had long left girlhood behind her. She was a Queen now, and a Winter Queen at that.

This wasn't the scared girl he had met in Winterfell, nor the caged bird left at the mercy of the Lannisters, this was a woman who with help of her granduncle, had risen the army of the Vale and rode North. Once he heard the news that Sansa Stark was riding North with men at her back; he had saddled Stranger and left the Isle.

He had pledged himself to her service, in whichever manner she would have him serve. And that's how he found himself attending war councils, preparing and organizing other men; if the news that Stannis Baratheon had shared were true, the real battle would be a hard one.

That is why Sansa had ridden North, retaking Winterfell was a priority, she had said. She had received news from her half brother and she had believed them.

"Jon wouldn't lie about something so dire." She had told him frowning at him after he had questioned the idea. "Which is why we need Winterfell, so we can at least have a safe refuge should the worst come to pass."

It had been the combined forces of the Vale and the men from Stannis who had purged Winterfell of Bolton and Frey.

She had ordered that Bolton be kept alive; she would pass the sentence herself on him. And so she did, and by doing so, she pulled the knife.

It had only been much later, in the privacy of what once was her father's solar, that she had allowed herself to cry. He had no words of comfort, so he did the only thing he could, held her until she was done.

The Queen of Winter wouldn't let any man see her cry; but Sansa Stark allowed him that.

At Times Like This.

Sansa walked around Winterfell, never alone, she usually had Brienne or Sandor with her. She would touch the walls and see the scorch marks the fire had left behind; but she was undaunted, she knew that she had to be strong.

But as she walked the halls of her old home, she found how little it remained; she herself had removed the Bolton banner from the Great Hall and had Brienne hang a Stark banner again. She went room to room, checking for all the damage and looking at what could be saved, she found herself remembering happier times; when her siblings and her run around playing together. An innocent time she wouldn't be able to recuperate.

Father, Mother and Robb were gone; Arya hadn't been found yet (she was sure that her sister was alive, Arya was too stubborn to die), Lord Manderly had told her that Rickon and Bran were alive; both in hiding, but that King Stannis had sent his Hand to retrieve Rickon. Some of the mountain clans were sure Bran was alive too, but weren't sure where he was. She didn't dare hope; she wouldn't allow herself to be hopeful only to have that hope dashed.

She had found herself being both thankful and grateful for Sandor; for even if he walked with a limp, he could still make men fear him and he was a great warrior on horseback. He was more often than not, her companion and the one to speak the ugly truth and she was thankful; she had grown tired of men thinking she was someone to shelter (she was sure Sandor thought it too), but she had seen and lived much to be anything less than strong.

So, when the time came of Roose's sentencing, it didn't came as a surprise that Sandor and other had objected at her being the one to end his life. She rose then and with a strong and cold voice simply said: "Who passes the sentence, passes the sword. I am a Stark of Winterfell, I might not be strong enough for a sword, but I can use a knife just fine."

She was sure she saw pride in Sandor's eyes.

When she had slit Roose's throat, she could have sworn that just for a moment, her family was with her and it gave her strength.

Out Of Time.

The parchment lay forgotten in the table.

Only Sandor remained with her, the rest of her council had already left; making plans for the battle that was to come. The Wall had begun to crack and fall piece by piece, and time was of essence; they had battle plans to make and to forge the obsidian swords and knives that were going to be needed.

Sansa wanted to cry, for the first time she wanted to scream and run; to have her father or brother at her side, telling her that everything would to be alright. But both were gone, forever lost to her; Rickon was barely a boy and Bran hadn't come back yet. She closed her eyes, unwilling to let the tears that had gathered on her eyes fall. She was a Queen, not a child.

"Little Bird…" She heard Sandor call, and opened her eyes to watch him observe her. His eyes no longer held that anger that once had frightened; she gave him a smile. "I can't promise that all will be well, but I can promise you this, we all will fight until the end."

Her smile was softer; she wished she had the proper words to thank him. It was as if he knew what she needed to hear before she could form the words. And the words would not come to her, she felt her throat tightened and her stomach did a flip, so she did the only thing she thought, she stood and hugged him.

The hug had him by surprise and Sansa felt him stiffen. He wasn't used to affection; it was still such a foreign concept to him that part of her wanted to cry. So she whispered "Thank you, for everything."

She felt Sandor relax in her arms and return the hug, it was awkward for him and she could tell. "Little Bird." Were the only words he whispered then, but she didn't care; they were running out of time. But they would fight to the bitter end, she was a Stark of Winterfell and Starks always endured; so would she.

A/N: As always, all comments and constructive criticism is welcome. Thank you for reading.