Sansa stared at her reflection in the silver looking glass, and thought her mother would have proud. She looked all of a highborn lady, gracious and lovely in her grey and white dress. Pearls adorned her ears and neck, and her hair was braided and twisted up. It shone, reflecting the candlelight, and there was a hint of red gold in its rich auburn shade.

She descended into the hall, where dozens upon dozens of Flints, Mormonts, Umbers, Karstarks, Manderlys and Cerwyns and their household men were already waiting. When she entered, every eye was upon her, and Sansa walked towards the seat that used to be her mother's. Even if she was the only Stark in Winterfell now, she couldn't bring herself to occupy her father's place.

She lingered on her feet and clasped her hands together in a gesture of welcome. The hubbub of talking that spread across the hall died, and everyone fell silent.

"My lords," she said, "I welcome you to Winterfell. It is a joy for me to see my father's loyal men again, and to be here, beneath the roof of this noble castle. The war was long and the winter cold and we all suffered grievous losses, but now spring is upon us once again, and with it the dawn of new hope. To celebrate this, tonight we shall feast, and welcome spring and new life into our midst."

Sansa fell silent and her heart thumped in her chest. She wondered whether she had said the right words, and whether this was enough - but the cheers that erupted all around the hall convinced her that all was as it should be. Many clapped their hands, other shouted "Stark! Stark! Winterfell!" and someone struck a lute in the corner. Sansa gave a sign to begin, and servants appeared, carrying out the first course, a stew of venison and wild mushrooms.

Some men came forward to pay her homage, kiss her hand, and rejoice over the reconstruction of Winterfell. To them, she usually responded by saying, "if my lord father had been alive, I know he would be overjoyed to see you here, ser."

One man waited to come to her until the others have dispersed. She didn't recognize him at first, but he wore the sigil of house Karstark, a white sun on a black field, and Sansa understood he must be Harrion, the young lord of Karhold.

"Lady Sansa," he said, bowing, "there is no greater joy than to see you home at last."

"I thank you, my lord," replied Sansa, extending her hand. Lord Karstark kissed her fingertips, and did not let go of her hand as quickly as she might have expected. He was a tall, broad-shouldered, bearded man, good-looking in his solemn way.

"You look troubled, my lady," he observed, watching her intently, "is something weighing upon you, if I may make bold to ask?"

"It is kind of you to ask, my lord," said Sansa, "there are several matters, one of which is that my lord husband was kidnapped by wildlings beyond the Wall."

"That is... most unfortunate," said Harrion Karstark, but he did not sound very convincing. If anything, he looked like a man who was beginning to nurture cautious hope. Sansa could not but notice the way he was looking at her, and at the vacant seat by her, as if he wished nothing better than to occupy it. The Karstarks were kin to the Starks, and at times not at all content to be mere bannermen. No doubt Harrion would love to become her consort and lord of Winterfell. Perhaps he would even consent to change his name to Stark, take the direwolf for his sigil, and leave Karhold for the lesser branches of house Karstark. "But why don't I see your sister, the lady Arya?" he asked. "I heard she was back in Winterfell as well, or was that just idle talk?"

"No, my lord," sighed Sansa, "you were not mistaken. My sister was here, but she... she has gone."

Lord Harrion frowned in puzzlement. "Gone where?"

Sansa had no intention of mentioning Bran's voice in the godswood and the door that appeared out of nowhere. She simply told that her sister and a group of men went through a passage that was discovered in the crypts of Winterfell. When she finished her tale, the frown on Harrion Karstark's face deepened.

"Gone through a passage that leads gods know where?" he said incredulously. "Pardon me, my lady, but if it were my sister, I would never have allowed something like this to happen."

There was something in his voice that made Sansa feel defensive, and yet she couldn't disagree with him, not truly. Arya was tougher than could seem at first glance, and yet she was still a maid of fifteen years, who had only just returned home after a long exile. If anything should happen to her, I will never forgive myself.

"No doubt, you speak with the voice of reason, my lord," said Sansa, "And yet I do not know what I could have done to stop her. Arya has always been wilful, and I do not pose much of an authority in her eyes. I confess, I am anxious in the extreme. Some time has already passed since the party set off, and we heard nothing of them."

"I should like to take a look at that passage," Harrion asked suddenly. Sansa looked about her. The feast was already in full swing; roast boar was being served, with many flagons of strong sweet mead and rich wines from the south. Perhaps if she slipped away for a little while, her absence would not be very conspicuous. Showing him the door would not take that long, at any rate.

"Come with me, my lord," she told him. Harrion was quick to oblige. He took a torch along with with, and Sansa led the way down to the crypts. Soon, they stood before the great stone door, but there Sansa was witness to the strangest thing - the door, which swung forward so easily for her and Arya, refused to budge for Harrion Karstark, even though he put his best efforts and all of his weight onto it. Finally, he was forced to admit defeat and stepped backward, mopping a sweaty brow.

"Perhaps it is something in the way this door is made," he suggested, "perhaps it got jammed or its mechanism is otherwise broken."

Sansa nodded, but deep inside she didn't believe it. Bran told of the door to her and Arya; he might not have wanted strangers to go down that path. Or perhaps the door would only open for Starks. Either way, Harrion Karstark didn't need to know any of it. She only politely expressed her agreement with his hypothesis.

"Do you have any idea where the passage might lead?" asked Harrion.

"If the legends of the secret passages in Winterfell are true, it is supposed to lead somewhere beyond the Wall. As you can imagine, my lord, this does nothing to alleviate my anxiety."

"I should think not," he nodded, and then added: "I shall collect a party of able men, and go forth to search for your sister, Lady Sansa."

Sansa looked up at him in surprise. "Do you mean that, Lord Harrion?"

"Of course. I will lead them myself. We will go north by way of Castle Black, explain our errand and refresh our supplies, then go beyond the Wall. I cannot promise anything, but I will do all in my power to bring Lady Arya back home. What you tell is troubling, but there is hope yet. As for your husband... forgive me, my lady, but he is likely dead. The wildlings aren't known to treat their prisoners gently."

Sansa knew that, but she pushed the thought away. "How soon do you think you might set out, my lord?"

"In a few days. I need to send word to every man who might prove useful... and to my sister as well," a scowl appeared on his face. "You know, perhaps, that Alys wed a man from beyond the Wall, Sigorn of the Thenn. Lord Thenn, he styles himself now - and to be sure, he has some rule and order in that savage land of his, but his lordly seat is but a longhall, and it's so far up north that Winterfell is a warm southern castle compared to it."

"I know of Lady Alys's marriage," said Sansa, "my own brother, Jon Snow, had arranged the match."

"Not one of your late brother's better notions, if you will pardon me saying so, my lady," Harrion said bluntly, "but under the dire circumstances of that time, and the treachery of my great-uncle Arnolf, I am sure Lord Snow did his best. His aim was to protect Alys, and she was kept safe and comfortable enough throughout the war by that fearsome husband of hers. He removed her to Thenn, and there she bore him a strong and healthy son. Alys took it upon herself to set up a rookery there, so at least I can send her a raven from time to time. Strangely enough, she never expressed discontentment. She even appears fond of her wildling chief, which, taking everything into consideration, is probably for the best."

"I am happy to hear that your sister found joy in matrimony," Sansa interjected politely.

"Yes. Well. I shall send a message to her and ask her to try and influence her husband to conduct a search as well, or at least gather what knowledge he can. If Lady Arya is indeed beyond the Wall, he might know something sooner than we do. And then... then I will be gone myself, in the hopes of bringing your sister safely back."

"That is too good of you, my lord," Sansa said earnestly, and Harrion's eyes lingered on her face as he said:

"If it is in my power, there is nothing I wouldn't do for you, Lady Sansa."

All of a sudden, Sansa became uncomfortably aware that it is late at night, and she is all alone in a dark crypt with a young man whose eyes are devouring her.

"We had better go back up the feast, Lord Harrion," she said. He nodded, and they began to make their way up.

They must have been gone longer than Sansa expected, because when they returned it was already time for baked apples with raisins, honey and cloves, and nuts and cheese. Harrion Karstark remained by her side throughout the remainder of the feast, and it made her squirm when she realized others have noticed this as well.

She was certain that Harrion's sudden resolution to go forth in search of Arya stemmed from his ambition to win her favor - and the rule over the entire north that would go with it. This thought made her angrier than she had expected to be. I am not widowed yet. But later, when she was back in her chambers, a chilly dread gnawed at her heart. What if Tyrion is dead? She didn't wish that, she realized. She wanted him to be back, so that she could sit opposite him in the library once more and say... but what would she say to Tyrion? That she was sorry for judging him unjustly in the past? That she knew now he was a good, brave man? That she trusted him? That she had grown to esteem him?

It was all well and good, but it wasn't enough. She understood Tyrion better than he thought she did, and she knew what words he was longing to hear from her. She didn't know, however, whether she would be able to say them.