Frothy whitecaps churned up the bay with each glacial gust of wind. The snow tipped Frostfangs stood resplendent against the deep blue swells of the Bay of Ice, providing a wild and rugged backdrop for their new home. Sansa beheld the scenic beauty in wonderment.
Shivering in delight, the young woman inhaled deeply, taking in the sharp clean smell of snow and pine, the smell of the north and home. "What stunning views we have!"
"Aye, it is pretty, I'll say that much for it," he replied, skillfully navigating Stranger over the shale beachhead. "Not quite as cold as I expected, either. We're here, lass." Sandor tenderly stroked her stomach and bundled Sansa deeper in the furs. "Home at last."
Many times during her years of captivity, she repeated the mantra: I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell; and almost immediately Sansa was convinced that she would be stronger still within the walls of Winterfrost Keep.
The imposing log structure beckoned to her and to her amazement Sansa discovered she soon felt that she never wanted to leave, and the disappointment they would soon go back to Winterfell already began pricking the back of her mind. How is it possible I am so attached to the place when I have not even been inside? The young mistress of the keep had no idea how, let alone knew why such a thing so quickly took hold in her heart.
Resting against her betrothed, she felt his heart beat wildly against her back as they moved closer to their new home. "With the blessing of the gods, our children would never know the stench and heat of King's Landing."
"From your mouth to your gods ears, lass," he grunted in agreement. Does Sandor feel it, too? Sansa started to ask when he bent down and whispered into her ear, "Look, love," while pointing out a large glossy raven circling overhead, its cawing breaking the stillness of the forest.
For a moment Sansa thought she heard a young man's laughter, and she tilted her head to listen. Bran? Is that you, brother? Are you with us? Sansa whispered to herself. She felt his presence much as she did at the Heart tree where he disappeared. Her mind snapped back to the present as Sandor drew rein on Stranger.
"Clever lad, that brother of yours, selecting this location. The shore provides a natural defense for the keep, and it makes intruders easy to spot."
"Rickon learned a great deal from Osha and Meera, which no doubt led him to select this place for our keep. You know his wife is got a pup of her own on the way."
Sansa shot bolt upright in the saddle. "Truly? Sandor, how can you tell?"
He tweaked her chin. "I told you, I saw Cersei with child three times. If I can't spot a pregnant woman by now, there's no hope for me."
"A child for Rickon and Arya-it is too good to be true!" Snuggling down against him once more, she languidly began tracing her fingers over his forearm. "It already feels like home, do you not think so, Sandor?"
Chuckling, Sandor peered down at the nest the little bird made in his arms, pleased beyond words by her contented air. "Aye, I suppose it does, especially to a little snowbird such as you. I need to have a look about before I make up my mind, though."
Several servants hurried out to greet them as Sandor lifted her from the saddle. "Lord Clegane and Lady Sansa," Samwell Tarly bowed. "Allow me to introduce your staff."
"Sam, what in seven devils are you doing here?" Sandor blinked back his surprise and shook the hand offered him.
"I'm to serve as maester for the family and Gilly as a chamber maid, if it pleases you and Lady Sansa."
Sansa pulled the young man into a gentle embrace. ""Oh, yes, Sam, that pleases me greatly. It is so good to have familiar faces in our new home."
"Aye, glad to have a skilled maester and fighting man among us," Sandor roughly replied while the man cautiously scanned their new surroundings. "How long you and the wife been up here?"
"Since Lord Rickon broke ground over a year hence. All the workers needed tending, you know. Men with too much time on their hands are always in need of a maester, unless they are on the Quiet Isle." Sam and Sandor shared a knowing laugh.
"Mostly drunks in need of cures for the usual ails but a few cuts and such as well," Sandor explained when he noticed Sansa's puzzled expression.
"I see," she answered quietly, her stomach sinking at the memory of the way Sandor spent his time away from her after the Blackwater battle.
"Lady Sansa, tis good to see you here at last," Osha approached with Hodor in tow.
"Hodor," said Hodor, the gentle man grinning widely at the sight of familiar faces.
"Osha, Hodor, it is so good of you to come!" Sansa beamed, hugging each of them by turns.
Sam made the rest of the introductions until Sandor stepped forward and inspected the last man, a young septon as tall as he. "You look familiar. What is your name?"
"This is Elder McCann, who studied under Elder brother. He is to tutor your future children, as well as mind you in spiritual matters. He can also track any animal or man and is very good at healing, reading the seasons and the weather."
Sandor wore an inscrutable expression as he surveyed the holy man. "McCann, I know that name."
"It is very good to meet you, Elder McCann," Sansa held out her hand with a smile while casting a puzzled sideways glance at Sandor. "You have travelled a great distance to serve our family."
The young man bowed. "My Lady Sansa, it is my pleasure to meet you at long last."
Sandor's keen eyes lit up with a devilish twinkle. "Now I remember you, boy," He declared with a smug look of satisfaction. "You helped me track Littlefinger through the Vale. Might not have caught up with him an my betrothed without you."
"Thank you, my lord; I remember you as well, and that is why I asked Septon Meribald for this post."
"The holy man is a fine tracker and hunter, lass. We'll have more than enough game with him and Osha around."
Sansa patted Hodor's arm. "And our children will have a fine friend in Hodor, dearest. He is also splendid with animals of all kinds."
"Aye, that he is," Sandor handed Hodor Stranger's reins before turning back to Sam. "How many guardsmen are stationed here?"
"At present, there are twenty guardsmen, my lord-all Unsullied as per the queen's command." Sam gestured toward the keep. "You have a fully equipped armory and ravens at your disposal also."
"What do you think of them?" Sandor asked warily, nodding toward the assembled Unsullied soldiers standing stiffly in the courtyard. "Tell me truly, as a fellow veteran of the Battle of Ice and Fire: are all of them as good a fighter as Grey Worm?"
"Oh yes, Lord Clegane; they are far more protection than you are likely to need, but the queen insisted on posting them since Lady Sansa is family to her."
"Fair enough," he remarked with a shrug. "I'll add some training of my own, you best believe that. I will want to inspect them before I leave."
"Of course, Lord Clegane. Let me show you inside and then I'll call the master at arms. I will leave you and Lady Sansa to get to know the place in private while I gather the men."
A twinge of sorrow flickered across Sansa's face, as it always did when her brother and his wife where referred to by the titles her parents once held. "That would be lovely, thank you, Sam." Sandor took her hand in his and gave it a silent squeeze.
Sam bowed once more."You're very welcome, my lady."
As the young man hurried away, Sansa gazed after him softly. "I should have known Jon would not entrust our care to anyone other than Sam and Gilly, Osha and Hodor. I am only sorry Bran will not be here to see our home, my love."
Sandor wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. "I know, Little bird."
Elder McCann stepped forward. "My Lady Sansa, I may be able to impart some information in hopes of comforting you."
Confused, she knitted her brows and looked up at her betrothed questioningly.
"Do you now?" Sandor growled low and warningly.
"Yes, I am well versed in the worship of the old gods as well as the Seven. Through prayer, Bran has contacted both me and Elder brother with the assurance that he is able to hear you and Sandor's vows through the weirwood trees."
"You'd better not be fucking with us, boy," the man snarled, gathering Sansa close in his arms as she quietly began sobbing into his chest.
"No, Ser, I swear it on the old gods and the new that it is true. I understand your reluctance, and even the most devoted would find it difficult to believe. You may enquire of Elder brother, if you wish for confirmation. Come."
The young septon led them behind the keep into the vast pine forest to a single weirwood sapling. "It was brought here and blessed by Jojen Reed as a wedded present for the both of you. He has vowed that he and Bran will help it take root, so my lady and lord will always be able to communicate with him."
"How beautiful!" Sansa sank to her knees in wonder before the sturdy young tree and reverently ran her hands over its pristine white limbs. "My love, the branches are already sprouting deep crimson leaves!"
Placing her hand on the trunk, she closed her eyes in prayer. "Thank you, brother," Sansa whispered aloud. "We will speak often from now on; I swear it on the old gods and the new. We have all missed you so."
Sandor took her hand in his and knelt beside her as Elder McCann quietly retreated into the forest. "Come on, love, let's go see the rest of the place," he rasped low.
Vaulted ceilings with exposed beams towered above them in the outer arch and approaches. Floor to gable shuttered windows gave the rugged interior a light, airy feel, so very different from the castles in which Sansa had previously lived. The great hall was sparsely furnished and workers hurried about setting up the oak plank benches for the wedding feast.
The smell of roasted meats and pastries greeted the couple in the dining hall. A massive granite fireplace dominated the center of the room, which was separated from the kitchen by leaved doors. Golden knotty pine cabinetry and granite countertops decorated the pantry and kitchen area, where Hot Pie worked at a frenzied pace.
Sam hurried toward them. "The queen provided furniture but commanded it stay in storage until you arrived. She felt that as lady of the keep, such matters should be left to you."
"How very kind," Sansa smiled up at Sandor, who merely grunted in response.
"Come into the kitchen, my lord and lady," he gestured to the water pump. "An engineering marvel. You have hot water piped in from the hot spring in the mountains high above the keep for both the kitchen and bathing rooms."
Sansa ran her hands over the granite basins and countertops before pointing to a large buffet set out before them. "Is all of this for our wedded feast?"
"Yes, Lady Sansa. Come, you must see your wedded cake," Sam led her toward a large confection on the center table, interrupting Hot Pie's decorating. "It's actually made up of dozens of individual lemoncakes arranged to resemble one large cake," Sam proudly smiled. "It was Hot Pie and me's idea."
"Mostly mine," Hot Pie grinned and handed Sansa a direwolf shaped loaf of bread. "Though Arya was the one who insisted on lemoncakes."
With a loud gasp, Sansa excitedly tugged Sandor toward the elegantly tiered frosted creation. "Dearest Arya, she knows me so well! Oh, Sandor, just look how lovely it is. Thank you so much, Hot Pie, it is so very clever."
After several moments passed with no response, she turned to see Sandor eagerly raiding a platter of pig's feet behind them. "Best part of the animal," he muttered through a mouthful of food. Dangling the delicacy in front of her face, Sandor heartily laughed when she scowled in return.
Sam could no longer stifle his own mirth at seeing the lady of the keep wrinkling up her nose in disgust and soon joined Sandor. Once the men sobered up, the young man continued through the dining hall. "Here it is that we've set up long plank benches for the wedded feast. If it is not to your liking, we will change it."
"It is pleasing just as it is, Sam," Sansa dreamily replied as she looked around in awe. "Will we have music?"
The man laughed and glanced at Sandor. "Oh, yes, my lady. Arya insisted Lord Clegane was sick of chamber music and preferred the casual melodies found in taverns. She hunted high and low for weeks and finally found players she deemed worthy in a nearby town, much to Jon's amusement."
Laughing, Sansa nodded. "That sounds like her!"
"The wolf, uh, girl," he sneered at Sansa, "the wolf girl has the right of it. I've heard enough bloody chamber music to last me a dozen lifetimes."
"If there is nothing more I will leave you to your ease," Sam bowed and headed back toward the kitchen after Sandor nodded. Hand in hand, the couple ascended the roughhewn log and granite staircase.
Leisurely they moved from room to room, opening closets and taking in the views, exploring all the intricacies of their new home.
"It smells fresh in here. What is that odor? Is it some kind of perfumed oil for the wedded feast?" Sandor sniffed, his eyes following the open upper floor beams and rafters toward the family rooms.
"No, dearest, it is the scent of the red cedar logs from which our home is built! I have not seen such in many years," Sansa lightly ran her fingers over the wall and then held her hand up to him. "Rickon must have brought these at great cost."
"Bloody hells, I never knew of any tree that smelled half so good," Sandor took a whiff and then kissed her hand. "Will it stay such for very long?"
"For many years hence," Sansa smiled at him, happy to share her knowledge of all things northern with her future husband. "It is used in the finer houses so the home will smell fresh in the winter months. When it fades, we only need have the log surfaces lightly sanded and the scent will return just as it is now."
"Can you get over the size of these buggering bastards?" Sandor pointed his toe at the large greatbear skin rugs lining the granite floors in the solar and library. "Glad I never met the creatures around these parts."
"These are traditional wedded gifts from the Mormonts and by far the finest fur rugs to be had in the seven kingdoms. Are they not beautiful?"
"As you say. That old woman's hunters must be the hardest sons of bitches in the north."
On the third floor the couple discovered six bedrooms, mostly empty of furniture save for beautifully honed pine cradles and cribs. Sansa colored deeply and reverently caressed the woodwork. "Look! For our children, Sandor."
Nodding, Sandor clenched his jaw. Sansa could see her fearsome betrothed was fighting back tears and so she gently led him down the hall. "Come my love, let us see our room."
Sandor slowly opened the door to the large master suite, where a massive floor to ceiling bay window ran the length of the room and provided scenic views overlooking the Bay of Ice.
In one corner a massive copper tub built for two rested on a raised marble platform with smaller copper washbasins and bathing benches placed nearby. A large oak mirror, yellow and black watercolor silk changing screens and two dressing tables adorned the far corner of the room. In the center of the window was the deepest, largest featherbed Sansa had ever seen.
"Sandor, look! There is a carved sculpture of wolves and dogs running together through the forest into the weirwood headboard! And these fox furs, how thick and luxuriant they are!" Sansa enthused as she settled on the edge of the bed and stared out at the water.
Turning toward him, Sansa noticed Sandor staring at her hungrily, and the young woman trembled pleasurably under his intense gaze. Lowering her eyes, a deep flush spread over her cheeks and neck. Chuckling low at her modesty, he stealthily moved beside her.
"Might be I'll sing you a song tomorrow, little bird," Sandor breathed into her neck as he drew her close in his arms.
"A song?" Sansa faintly repeated, tilting her head. "I-I did not know you knew any songs."
"Aye, lass, I know a good one, at that, " he nibbled on her neck. "You want to hear a bit?"
Sansa's skin tingled under the feel of his beard on her skin.Y-yes," she stammered.
"My featherbed is soft and deep and here I'll lay you down. For you shall be my lady love, and I shall be your lord. I'll always keep you warm and safe, and guard you with my sword," he finished by gently sipping on the tender flesh of her collarbone with a devilish grin.
"Did you make that up?" Sansa teased, trying to hide the breathiness in her voice. "It sounds familiar."
"Mayhaps I heard it somewhere with you, lass," he laughed low, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes. "Hold out your hand for me."
Sansa's eyes quickly darted up to his and held out her hand obediently.
Placing the ring in her palm, he gently slipped it onto her hand. "I carved it myself out of driftwood I saved from the Quiet Isle."
"It is the prettiest piece of jewelry I have ever owned," Sansa sincerely replied, staring at the glittering ring on her hand. "It fits beautifully, too." Tenderly she covered his mouth with her own in a long, deep kiss.
Clearing his throat, Sandor moved away and fixed his eyes on the ground. "Sansa, do you remember the wedded cord you wore on your finger when we posed as husband and wife in Dorne?"
"Yes of course," Sansa covered his face in kisses as he spoke. "It is the only place to have such a custom in the seven kingdoms, I later learned."
He kissed her hand. "I sized the ring from it."
"That old cord?" Sansa's eyes widened incredulously. "You kept it? Why?"
"I kept to remember how far we've come together," Sandor quietly rasped as he pulled her close. "It was in Dorne that you first kissed me, and it was there that I allowed myself to start to hope that one day you would be mine for true-it was bloody foolish at the time and yet here we are," his mouth twitched and he drew a deep breath. "The keep is nowhere near as big or grand as Winterfell, Sansa, but it is our home and I swear that you'll be safe and happy here."
"Sandor, I would not wish it to be Winterfell, for then it would not be ours," Sansa turned his face up to her. "Dearest, you must believe that Winterfrost Keep is a far lovelier home than I ever dreamed for us. The fact that it is ours, yours and mine, built by my brothers for our family makes it all the more precious in my eyes. I know we will be very happy here," she finished with another passionate kiss.
"Aye I'm sure we will at that, lass," Sandor wistfully rasped, pulling her back tightly against his chest. "It's just that, well it's a bloody lot to take in for a hard man like me."
"Indeed it is indeed, for both of us. Springtime has come at long last."
"And the little bird chirps louder than ever," Sandor smirked and rose to his feet.
With a shy smile, she led him by the hand to the bay window. "Come, love, let us take in the view."
Sandor wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close. "Here we will watch the sun rise each morning dearest," she brought his hand up to her mouth and kissed it tenderly before moving to the center of the window. "And through the years, in this very rocking chair, I will nurse our children."
"A sweet dream, lass, truly," Sandor sighed into her hair.
A soft knock came from the door. "My lord, the men are assembled and ready for you."
"Bloody hells, I'm going to ban anyone from visiting for six moons after the tomorrow, by the gods," Sandor growled as he bent down and kissed each of Sansa's cheeks. "You stay here while I go see to our guardsmen."
"Must you go so soon?" Sansa pouted, even though she knew her diligent man would not be at ease until he was assured of their security.
Sandor nodded. "Come in, Sam. I must see for myself that the place is well guarded by the best damned killers in the seven kingdoms. My wife's security is of first importance to every man here, got it? And bring me a tactical map of the keep and its grounds."
"Right away, my lord," Sam hurried out of the room.
"I'll not be gone long, wife," he murmured as he kissed her tenderly, holding her face in his hands. "Wait for me here."
Wife. Hearing Sandor's harsh refer to her by the term which previously only held misery for Sansa thrilled her to the core. It was the first time she would be wedded by her own choosing to a man that she loved, and not for some political gain of her captors.
"I will," she smiled, her eyes affectionately following Sandor's intimidating build as he stalked out of the room, the scowl of menace returning to his face.
Gazing out at the whitecaps churning against the shale beachfront, Sansa realized that her ferocious non-Ser had given her far more than a proposal of marriage or a new home: Sandor swallowed his bitter hatred of nobility and allowed himself to be made a lord, not for power or the promise of a new keep, but solely to enable Sansa the freedom she would not take for herself.
Wrapping herself in furs, she sat on the edge of the bed, their bed, and stared out at the water. Sansa watched Sandor drilling the men on the beach. In the distance Rickon's host slowly made its way toward the keep. Our privacy is over soon enough, she sighed resignedly.
The lordship meant nothing to Sandor, she knew. He cares only to provide me with security and the freedom to start a new life with him. Dearest Sandor, he gave me the way in which we both would be able to return north. Here, he and I will know true happiness for perhaps the first time in our lives.
Her mind flashed back to their intimate explorations. Out of love, Sandor denied even himself so that I would take my time and learn to love and be loved on my own terms. I will never be able to repay him for all the good his love has brought into my life.
Delicately fingering the glimmering ring on her left hand, she vowed before the old gods and the new that she would do her utmost to provide her husband the happiness and family Sandor's life had so desperately lacked. No matter what the council of northern lords or the queen concluded, Sansa was determined she would spend the rest of her life loving Sandor, bearing his children and creating a warm, loving home for their family.
"Beg pardons but your kin is here, milady," Gilly smiled shyly at Sansa. "Sam said you'll be wanting to receive them."
"Thank you Gilly," the young woman smiled in return. "Let us go greet the young warden of the North."
After a long, casual meal, the men walked the perimeter of the keep while Sansa and Shireen put away their belongings and arranged the furniture. "Dearest goodsister, do not overwork yourself," Sansa leaned in close. "I know you are expecting a blessed event."
Shireen colored brightly and stammered, "Is-is it very noticeable? I have tried so very hard to conceal it."
"Have you told Rickon?"
"Not yet. He has much on his mind these days," she turned and opened a nearby drawer.
"Dearest you must!" Sansa hugged her close. "He will be overjoyed!"
"I will after tonight," Shireen laughed softly, averting her eyes from her goodsister.
Shireen wrung her handkerchief. "I am afraid I do, Sansa, though Daenerys assured us she will handle the matter herself. Arya is ready to kill the first person who accuses Sandor and Rickon is no better." She had expected as much, but seeing the normally unflappable Shireen so disheartened sent cold fear through Sansa. Swallowing hard, she nodded and patted her hand. "Let us not give it another thought, Shireen. The gods will see to it. Now, tell me what names you have thought of for your firstborn."
No more was said of the council meeting. The rest of the afternoon was spent unpacking their belongings, furnishing the keep and preparing for the wedded feast. By the third quarter of the sun, Rickon and Shireen mounted their horses with Sandor and Sansa for the journey back to Winterfell.