"He's coming home!" Sansa shrieked. "HE'S COMING HOME!"

She saw Arya and Gendry's heads snap up and amended her yelling to, "They're coming home!"

Their mouths had just formed into Os of surprise when Sansa took off running to find her mother.

"Wait!" Gendry called after her. "Who won the war?"

But Sansa was already inside, flat-out running through the halls. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rikard go by in a blur. She skidded to a halt, grabbing onto a corner to slow her momentum, and yelled, "Prepare Clegane's room! Today!"

The steward had just opened his mouth to reply but Sansa was already gone.

Winded, with a stitch in her side and legs burning from the stairs, Sansa burst into the family's solar to find her mother smiling over her own scroll.

"They're coming home!" Sansa cried breathlessly.

Catelyn stood and threw her arms around her elder daughter. "I know! At last!" She exhaled slowly. "Oh, Sansa, this is the most wonderful news!"

For long moments they just hugged and grinned at each other.

"You heard from Father? What else did he have to say?"

"They were successful. Lord Stannis has claimed the Iron Throne. Your father bent the knee and is leading his men home."

"What of Joffrey and the rest?"

"Prisoners. Subject to Lord Stannis's justice. Your father was uncertain what the king, the new king, was planning to do about them."

"Did he say when they're coming home?" Sansa was coming to realize just how much information she was missing.

"He'll send word when they're a day or two away. He was readying to leave King's Landing when he wrote his letter."

Sansa was so elated she felt as though she could fly.

"There was one other bit of news," Catelyn added with a more serious expression.

"What is it?"

"Your father has approved a betrothal between Robb and Lyanna Mormont. It seems likely they will wed upon their return."

Sansa's mouth fell open in surprise. She remembered Lyanna as a vivacious, energetic girl from the few times the denizens of Bear Island had visited Winterfell over the years. "How wonderful," she said.

"Yes," Catelyn agreed, turning away.

"You don't seem pleased."

Her mother sighed. "It would have made more sense to make a match with Shireen Baratheon."

"Not if Robb loves Lyanna."

"What makes you think he loves her?"

Sansa faltered. "Sandor mentioned they were spending time together, Robb and Lyanna."

"What else did he mention?"

"That she's quiet skilled with a battleaxe."

"That was all?"

"Yes."

Catelyn nodded. "Well, it is an acceptable match if not an advantageous one. House Mormont has always been loyal to the Starks. I just wonder at your father's reasoning."

"Well," Sansa said with a big smile, "you'll be able to ask him soon enough."

Two advance riders brought news of Lord Stark's return. They were greeted with thunderous cheers. The men would be at Winterfell in two days' time. Lady Stark sent twenty men to meet them on the way. Some had carts of food, others took spare horses. They were to assist with the wounded and perform any other tasks that would hasten their lord's return. Sansa spent the first day ensuring Sandor's room and clothing were freshened to her specifications. She had a page haul Sandor's trunk back to his quarters and was glad to see it go. The second day Sansa rose early, bathed in scented water, dressed with care in the gown she'd fashioned from Sandor's old tunic, and instructed her maid most particularly on the arrangement of her hair.

She was a permanent fixture on the ramparts after that. Many people were. Anticipation rippled back and forth between them. Sansa felt her luck. Unless some evil had befallen Sandor or her father on the road, she, at least, could expect a happy reunion. She knew some folks would not be so fortunate. Many a prayer was whispered as they waited. At long last, in mid-afternoon, the first rider, a squire, appeared, churning up dirt on the road in his haste to reach the castle.

A collective gasp went up and the waiting group stampeded down to the courtyard. Sansa rushed to the raised platform from which she'd watch the men leave so long ago. She stood quivering with her family. Her siblings' wolves prowled around the gate, noses sniffing the air, tails twitching. Moments before the beat of hooves could be heard, Shaggydog gave a long, piercing howl. And then they were there. Her father, Robb, Sandor in his dog's-head helm. The courtyard flooded with men and horses. Grooms and every available young boy were grabbing reins and leading horses to the stables. There were cries of joy, sobs of grief, yelled greetings and claps on backs, jingling tack, clanging armor, a thousand feet shuffling in the dirt. The mass of people ebbed and swirled in front of Sansa but she saw only one. Sandor tucked his helm under his arm and shook his hair back. All sound and motion ceased when his eyes met Sansa's. Sansa blinked back the tears in her eyes and gave a wobbly smile. Sandor's posture softened just slightly and he reached back and touched the ribbon from her smallclothes, now just a rag, that was still knotted to the hilt of his sword but then Harry began gathering up Stranger's reins and Sandor was forced to dismount. He looked again and gave her a small nod. Sansa began to move to the front of the platform and was suddenly struck from behind.

"WILLARD!" was blasted in her ear as she pitched forward, the ground rushing toward her and then flashing away as she was snapped back upright.

"WILLARD!" Jeyne screamed again, tearing into the crowd.

Sansa's first nonsensical thought was that the Lannisters' men had somehow followed the northeners to Winterfell undetected. Why else would Willard be there? Then a raspy chuckle came from her side and she realized it was Sandor who had caught her.

"What is he doing here?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Isn't it obvious, little bird? He's my hostage." He looked back toward Willard and Jeyne. "Never been a better-treated one, either," he added with another chuckle.

Through the throng, Sansa saw Jeyne launch herself at the red-headed man-at-arms and kiss him with as much fervor as he kissed her back. Good-natured laughter surrounded them.

Sansa gawked, stunned. She turned back to Sandor who was raking his eyes down her body.

"I like the dress."

"I - " The smell of him caught her. Horse, yes, and road and sweat but that undeniable scent of him penetrated her brain and brought home the fact that he was really, truly, and safely back at her side.

"You should greet your father."

Sansa knew he was right and gave a small, "Oh!" when he suddenly picked her up and placed her back on the platform. Just at that moment, Ned, flanked by Summer and Shaggydog, and followed more slowly by Nymeria, had finally been able to reach the dais, being waylaid by seemingly every single person as everyone wanted to bid their lord a welcome home. Ned's family rushed him, hugged him, exclaimed over him. Robb came next, hand in hand with Lyanna, who declined to ascend the dais. Ned broke away to move to the edge of the platform. Raising his hands, he addressed his people. He thanked his soldiers for their solidarity and obedience and praised those who had fallen. He pledged to meet the next day with each family who had suffered a loss. The day after that, there would be a feast to celebrate their success and Lord Stannis's coming coronation as king and and to distribute the spoils they'd earned in war.

The words all washed over Sansa as background noise. Her eyes moved between Sandor and Jeyne. Sandor had moved off to the side. Nymeria had joined him and he was ruffling her fur as she knocked her huge head against his hip. Jeyne was wrapped in Willard's arms and listened to Lord Stark as tears streamed over her cheeks to drip off her trembling chin.

By the time the crowd began to thin, it was nearly dusk. Catelyn had ordered a generous and hardy meal to be served an hour hence and the men headed off to wash and spend a little time with their families before coming to the great hall in droves. Sansa trailed along after her family and wondered where Sandor had gotten to, since he'd disappeared somewhere in the chaos. In the solar, Ned announced Robb's bethrothal to the family. Robb actually blushed as his siblings congratulated him and toasted to his happiness.

"We'll dine privately with the Mormonts tomorrow," Ned said.

They spent just a few more moments together before it was time to freshen up for the meal. Sansa returned to her room briefly to have her maid fix her hair. Then she stopped at Sandor's room in hopes of walking to the hall together. He wasn't there. She passed a somewhat frazzled-looking Rikard and a thought occurred to her.

"Rikard, Lord Sandor has brought back a hostage. He'll need accommodation. Something decent."

"Yes, Lady Sansa. Lady Stark has already seen to it."

"Oh. Thank you," was all Sansa could find to say in reply. How her mother had managed to handle this detail so quickly, she couldn't fathom.

Sansa made her way to the front of the great hall, stopping and chatting every foot, genuinely pleased to see so many familiar faces and feeling little stabs of pain as she learned of those lost. Eventually she reached her chair. As a rich and creamy mushroom soup was placed in front her, she found Sandor sitting at a table in the middle of the room, talking, laughing, and drinking with other men-at-arms. Willard was with him and Jeyne was with Willard. It struck Sansa that Sandor's presence was no longer a matter of interest to anyone. Even Willard seemed accepted. Sansa didn't see quite how that was but figured the long weeks of travel would have made Willard known to the others and his kind and easygoing personality was not as likely to draw suspicion as, well, someone with a less friendly demeanor. It rankled her just slightly that no one was muttering "turncloak" under their breath but she shook off her acrimony. She was still confused but there was time to learn the particulars later. She smiled as she thought, There's nothing but time now.

The wine flowed and the room grew ever louder. Tonight was not a night for speeches but for enjoying the company of those long-missed. Word of Robb's betrothal spread through the room and added to the celebratory atmosphere. The warriors, all of whom looked thinner, ate voraciously. Sansa left the dais to greet the Mormonts and spent several minutes talking with Lyanna, who she liked even more than before. The girl had a quick wit but, more importantly, gazed at Robb with adoration, which seemed to smooth some of his seriousness. Sansa had never seen her brother smile so much. Arya joined them and was deep in a conversation with Lyanna about fighting and weaponry almost immediately. Sansa and Robb stepped aside.

"When will you wed?" Sansa asked.

"Tonight, if I had my way," Robb said with a sigh. "But I think we'll wait at least a few weeks. Marrying now doesn't seem appropriate. We should let the wounded heal. Lyanna and her family will stay until the wedding. Then I'll travel with them to Bear Island to visit the rest of the Mormonts before returning here with my bride." He smiled again as though he couldn't believe his luck and shook his head a little.

"She will make a fine Lady Stark some day."

"A long time from now, the gods be willing. I had not realized the burden on Father's shoulders until the war started." He shook his head again but this time in a gesture of awe. He looked at Lyanna and then back at his sister, his happiness again apparent on his face. "I'm content to let him have the job a while longer."

Sansa laughed and looked back at her father, who caught her eye and gestured for her to join him. Sansa excused herself and returned to the dais. Her mother was off speaking with someone else so Sansa sat in her chair and scooted it close to her father's side. He leaned toward her, taking her hand in his and covering it with his other hand.

"I'm glad you're home, Father."

Ned nodded, looking tired. "It is good to be home."

He released her hands and looked out at the crowd for a moment before continuing. "I would like you to help me with something tomorrow."

"Of course," Sansa murmured, wondering what it could be.

"I mean to visit the family of each man we lost. I would like you to accompany me and make a list of what each family needs. Some have sons who can help but others don't." More quietly he added, "I'll also need an estimate of the loss of manpower. Which men were performing which tasks, where we'll need to train replacements, that sort of thing. I could take Rikard with me but he has enough to do at the moment and, besides, this will require a high level of compassion. I believe your presence would be beneficial."

Sansa stared at him for a moment and wondered why he didn't take her mother. "Of course," she repeated. "I'll be happy to help."

Ned nodded. "Mid-morning, then. Best not to let this linger."

Sansa wanted to ask him a thousand questions but refrained. They could wait until he'd had a chance to rest. She kissed him on the cheek and looked back out at the hall. Couples had been slipping away all evening, leaving the single men and women to grow rowdier and drunker on their own. Sansa thought it high time she had the pleasure of Sandor's company. She headed down the steps and had started to thread her way through the tables when her mother caught her arm. Catelyn excused herself from conversation and said, "Sansa, has your father spoken to you about assisting him tomorrow?"

"Yes. I've agreed."

"Good. I fear it will be a tiring day for you. Make sure you rest well tonight."

"I will."

Sansa continued around a few more tables and, looking up, locked eyes with Sandor. As he tipped a flagon into his mouth, he gave a small shake of his head. Sansa didn't know what he was trying to convey. She paused but he merely took his drink, set his flagon down, and responded with a laugh to something one of the others said as if he'd not communicated with her. Feeling foolish, she just stood and watched as his table erupted in laughter. She was not meant to join them, apparently. She redirected her steps and, bewildered, made her way to her room.

Sansa decided that a more private reunion with Sandor suited her better than cackling over a flagon anyway. Though she was exhausted, she lay in bed awake for what felt like forever. Once she felt certain most of the castle was asleep, she crept through the halls and slid into Sandor's room unobserved. It was dark save for the moonlight streaming through the open windows. Sansa detected Sandor's form on the bed. He was snoring and the room reeked of wine. Tip-toeing around the bed, she looked at him in the weak light. He was sprawled on top of the covers. His chest was bare but his breeches were still on, as were his boots. The moonlight made his muscles look like marble. Desire began to lap at Sansa's insides. She laid a hand on his sinewy forearm. He made a faint, indeterminate sound but otherwise didn't stir. Sansa smiled and thought to surprise him. Randa had mentioned something lewd that Sansa had dismissed as wanton at the time but which now seemed like just the thing. Resting her knee on the bed, she slowly and carefully undid the laces of Sandor's breeches. She gently gripped his manhood and ran her hand up and down its silken length. Sandor grunted in his sleep. Once he was hard, Sansa lowered her head and took him into her mouth. Her tongue had barely started to trace over him when Sandor murmured her name. His head lolled from one side to the other and then he said, ". . . the fuck?" and was suddenly awake, sitting up, knocking her aside and then grabbing her again.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded in a whisper.

"What?" Sansa asked, embarrassed and a little miffed. "I've missed you -"

He rubbed his hands over his face and looked at her bleary-eyed. "I've missed you, too." He squinted as though the moonlight blinded him.

Sansa leaned in and kissed him and he gave in to her touch but fleetingly.

"I thought -"

"Yes, I want to. I want you to. But -" He clutched the edge of the bed and squeezed his eye shut. "I'm drunk."

Sansa's heart sank. She didn't want to lecture him but it shouldn't need explaining that this was their first night in the same place in forever so, given the opportunity, of course they'd be spending some of it together.

He pushed off his knees and stood, tucking himself in and fastening his laces. He reached out and pulled her into him, smelling her hair. "Just not tonight," he murmured.

"Not tonight? That doesn't make any sense."

"If your parents knew you were here -"

"But I thought you and my father -"

"It's best not to push him."

"Since when -"

"Please, Sansa. Don't make this harder. I want to. Just not now. It was a long trip back. "

There didn't seem to be a reason to keep arguing with him. She allowed him to walk her to the door. He leaned down and kissed her and closed the door quietly behind her as she crept back toward her room.

Sansa was slinking through the Starks' quarters when she overheard her parents talking in their room. She couldn't stop herself from pausing near their door when she heard her mother exclaim, "Why not Shireen Baratheon? You always wanted a link between our family and Robert's and now the girl will be queen. A match between she and Robb would be beneficial to our family and the north in general."

"The girl had greyscale, Cat."

"A few scars hardly make her unfit for marriage."

"Robb is taken with Lyanna. He wouldn't consider anyone else."

"Then why not wait? Why a hasty battlefield engagement?"

There was a long pause and Sansa wondered if her father was speaking too quietly for her to hear when she made out a few words in his tired voice.

". . . her honor. He feels bound . . ."

"Of all the rash, imprudent things to do. He is heir to Winterfell."

"He knows that Cat, but he loves her and House Mormont is steadfast, faithful, and honorable."

"They gain more than they give."

"They give Robb an arsenal of skilled warriors," Ned said in a flat, tired voice. "And direct information on wildling behavior."

"He had that anyway with them as his bannermen."

Ned yawned. "Be that as it may. I'm content with the arrangement and you'll have to be, too."

"Perhaps Princess Shireen and Bran . . ."

"Between their injuries, they would be perceived as a weak pairing. No, it's true. Stannis will have to find a very strong husband for his daughter but it won't be Robb or Bran."

Sansa had heard enough. Tired and downcast, she made her way to bed.

The next day was indeed harrowing. Sandor didn't break his fast with the rest of the household. He wasn't in the yard or at the stables or anywhere Sansa looked. She didn't have much time to dedicate to her search, though, since she was to assist her father. Once they began their rounds, thoughts of Sandor fled. Visiting the grieving families was sobering. Their reactions were varied. Some sobbed, some were silent, some showed tear-stained, wobbly restraint, a few could barely contain their anger. Sansa was in awe of her father. He knew each man and was able to speak of his valiant service. He asked gentle questions and Sansa subtly noted the information he sought. It was easier for her than her father to pat hands and shed tears with the bereaved. Emotionally it was exhausting but Sansa was sincere in her wish to help and most folks responded kindly to it. The most difficult were the young widows. Small children stared with large, wet eyes, clinging to their mothers' skirts, unaccustomed to being visited by their lord. Sansa coaxed the children into talking to her, the little ones often scrambling into her lap to pat her face and grab fistfuls of her hair. The visits took longer than expected. Some families needed to reminisce about their loved one's lives. They wanted assurances that they would not be forgotten, that their children would be taken care of. Lord Stark listened to it all in his calm and thoughtful way. They weren't done until the evening and, by then, Sansa felt thoroughly wrung out.

"Thank you, Sansa. You were a great help," her father told her as she handed him her notes, "as I knew you would be. I could not have comforted them the way you did."

"I'm sure you could have."

Her father gave her a weary smile. "By now I know my weaknesses. And your strengths."

There being no time for a nap, Sansa freshened up, changed, and joined her family for their dinner with the Mormonts. She wondered where Sandor was but didn't dwell on it, the press of people in the solar claiming all of her attention. It was difficult to move from a demeanor of respectful sympathy to one of delighted celebration but her mood lifted as the evening went on. The Mormonts were a lively, direct group. Some preliminary wedding plans were put into place and they ate and drank late into the night.

Sansa walked back to the family's wing with her father. Stifling a yawn, she said, "You must be exhausted, Father. I can barely keep my eyes open and I didn't just return home."

"Things will return to normal soon enough, the gods be willing, though tomorrow will be a busy day as well. I understand you've been helping your mother with the details for the feast. I'd like to speak with the two of you privately before it begins."

"Of course. Is this about the wedding?"

"Not Robb's wedding though that reminds me; Jeyne has asked my permission to marry this Willard she's so taken with."

Sansa's tired eyes shot open. "She has?!" The speed rather than the fact surprised her.

"You feel it would be an imprudent match?" Ned asked, his brow contracted in concern.

"Oh no. I can't claim to know Willard well but he's never given me cause to doubt his decency. Jeyne's affections have certainly been steady."

Ned nodded and looked relieved. "I'm glad because I gave them my consent."

"But he's Sandor's hostage."

Sansa was surprised when her father chuckled. "Clegane has left the matter to me."

"When will they wed?"

"The day after tomorrow. I'm surprised Jeyne hasn't told you."

"So am I but, then again, I've been with you all day."

"That's so."

"It's a great pity her father isn't here."

"Yes but having Jeyne wed relieves me of the obligation of having her as my ward. She'll once again be in her own household. From what I've seen of him, Willard will make her a good husband. He was only too eager to pledge me his sword."

Sansa nodded, fatigue taking hold of her more strongly in the wake of this surprising news. "Sandor allowed that as well?"

"He doesn't think the reward Willard would command would be worth the hassle of negotiating his exchange, and he's right."

"And you accepted Willard's pledge? Though he was sworn to the Lannisters?" She tried not to sound as though she was making a broad hint.

"I did. Your mother thinks I've grown foolishly accommodating but, after the war I just helped win, these smaller battles hardly seem worth the fight."

The mood the next morning was one of excitement. It was the day of the feast, a day of celebrating heroism and looking forward to better things. The castle was bustling with preparations. Jeyne found Sansa early and gushed over her news. Sansa offered her sincere congratulations.

"It will be a simple wedding, nothing like Robb's is sure to be, but, oh, Sansa! I'm so happy! Your father is kindness itself!"

Sansa smiled. "That he is."

"Clegane, too," Jeyne added more stiffly. "Willard speaks most highly of him. Indeed, without him . . . Well, it's not a day for dwelling on sadness avoided. Sansa, will you help me dress tomorrow?"

Sansa agreed and insisted she embroider some napkins as a wedding present despite the impossibility of them being done in time for the hasty nuptials.

"That would be wonderful! You do such beautiful work. You must be our first guest!" Jeyne said, squeezing Sansa's hands.

Jeyne's happiness was infectious and Sansa found herself grinning as she walked to the great hall. The next couple hours were spent with her mother overseeing arrangements. Before she knew it, crowds were pouring into the great hall. Tables against the back wall were buckling with casks of coins, weaponry, and the other spoils of war. As a Stark, she would be seated to the side of the dais with the rest of her family while her father spoke and Robb helped distribute the goods.

Sansa's back was turned when Sandor entered the hall but she sensed his presence and turned to find him looking at her. He made his way to the front.

"Sansa?"

"Yes?"

"After this is over, come for a walk with me."

"I'd be happy to but my father has asked to speak with me and my mother before the feast."

At that moment, Ned strode onto the dais. "Clegane," he said with a nod.

"Lord Stark," Sandor replied.

"Find a seat. It's time to begin."

Sandor looked at Sansa and wandered to a bench in the middle of the room.

The crowd's elation soon cooled. Everyone was still happy but the calling forward of man after man and bestowing upon him some portion of the wealth they'd accumulated quickly grew monotonous. Sansa kept her back straight and a smile on her face, clapping as each person was recognized. The men-at-arms were first, followed by the more senior warriors.

Finally, it was Sandor's turn. Sansa watched as Sandor's tall form cut through the crowd. Ned kept his eye on him as well and Sansa thought her father looked uneasy. Upon reaching the dais, per custom, Sandor and Ned gripped each other's right wrist as the Warden of the North acknowledged his retainer.

"For his valor and leadership, I grant Sandor Clegane -"

Sansa noticed Sandor's eyes were boring into her father's and Ned was returning his gaze unflinchingly. There seemed to be a challenge or command there.

"- with the gratitude and thanks of House Stark and the North," her father concluded. He rose and nodded to Robb, who collected Sandor's share of the loot and stepped forward to hand it to him with a nod and word of thanks, which Sandor returned. His arms full with a cask, a jeweled swordbelt Sansa knew he'd never wear, and some smaller items clutched in his hand, he returned to his seat, his eyes straying to Sansa.

She smiled at him and he nodded in return. Discreetly, Harry came forward and relieved Sandor of his spoils.

Several more men and women were recognized. Sansa twisted just slightly in her seat to relieve the ache developing in her back. Arya stifled a yawn next to her. They'd been at attention for the better part of two hours. Sansa was relieved when, at last, Greatjon Umber limped to the front of the hall. He was to be the last rewarded for his service.

The Greatjon accepted his share of the goods but then remained standing before the dais. "This is great day indeed, Ned. You have been generous."

This was met with cheers and shouts of agreement from those assembled.

"To the Mormonts perhaps most of all."

The crowd laughed.

"I say one good turn deserves another. Let's join our houses. Marry your daughter to one of my sons. Let the north grow stronger through another union."

He turned toward Sansa and smiled broadly, seemingly thinking he was answering her every prayer. Sansa was stricken. She heard her mother inhale sharply next to her. Ned looked uncomfortable as well. Sansa saw a chilly look pass from her mother to her father.

"My friend, if I could grant your request . . ."

"You can," the Greatjon boomed, looking around the room with a smile that only faltered when Ned's silence continued.

Ned seemed to be selecting his words with great care. "House Umber has a proud history and a fine lineage . . ."

"Then surely you can have no objection," Umber said with a laugh, some others joining him.

"Lord Stark," Sandor rumbled from the middle of the room.

"I certainly don't object to -" Ned began again.

"Lord. Stark." Sandor intoned, leaning forward with a scowl.

"You've been heard, Clegane. I was saying, House Umber's loyalty and unstinting service deserves no less than the greatest reward but this request -"

"Is denied," Sandor cut in, standing, indifferent to the uproar his words created. "Lady Sansa's hand has already been promised to me."

"To you?" the Greatjon said, turning to face him.

"Stay here," hissed Catelyn with a sidelong look at Sansa.

Sansa couldn't have moved if she'd tried. She didn't know when she'd stood but she was on her feet. Shock rooted her to the floor and she could only gape at the three men, aware that hundreds of eyes were on her.

"Whoa," murmured Arya from Sansa's other side.

"Aye. To me."

The Greatjon gave a short laugh and turned toward Ned, waiting for his friend to reveal the jape.

Ned blew out a breath "I have agreed to a match between Lady Sansa and Sandor Clegane, it is true. I'm sorry I can't fulfill your request, Jon."