Chapter 9.

Early in the morning, before the sun actually rose, Sandor Clegane and sixty other warriors left Winterfell to fight and kill the Boltons. Sansa's command was clear: destroy the enemy completely and leave none of them alive.

Most of the soldiers were not really glad to leave the castle and the peaceful life behind but they knew well that they had to go. The Boltons were the only threat to the peace of the North and they had to be stopped as soon as possible. If there were any annoyed murmurs among the people, the Hound was the first to make them shut up, even though he didn't seem to have as much lust for killing as he used to. His glance was dark, he spent the time of waiting sharpening his sword with impatient movements, hard breathing and a couple of curses about the terribly cold weather of the North. Everyone tried to avoid getting closer to him or meeting his eyes.

Before Sansa arrived to bid farewell to them and wish them a quick and successful journey, Ser Thomas made a little speech in front of the people, getting ready to mount their horses. They were wearing their thickest clothes, thigh-length fur coats and leather boots, with their swords hanging on their belts, close at hand. The huge bags of food and water were fastened to the saddles. None of them expected a quick trip and that was why all of their faces were dark and slightly furious.

Ser Thomas was not happy either but he knew his duty very well and he tried to pour some common sense into his unwilling soldiers. He had spent most of his life fighting for the enemies of the North since he had been able to lift a sword and it was a little difficult for him to adapt to the peaceful life of Winterfell without battles but during the last weeks he felt that he was longing for a little rest. Sometimes he was dreaming about sitting in front of the fireplace and watching his grandsons and granddaughters play – although deep inside he suspected that he would be unable to sit still long.

- I know that you all would prefer to stay in your bed and live the life we got used to during the last few months. I want the same. But let's make it clear: we have a task to do, something important that put our lives into risk and we cannot return to Winterfell as long as this problem is unsolved.

A young man with a boyish face asked on a hopeful voice:

- What if the Boltons were not coming here?

Ser Thomas grinned.

- Don't be stupid, Theo. They are coming for one reason. To grab the crown of the North and they will kill as many of us as possible.

- It's not the first time they are trying to get Winterfell… - someone added.

Sandor Clegane murmured softly.

- But it will be the last time.

Only a handful of people near him heard his words and they felt the frightening promise in his voice clearly.

A lamentable voice came from behind.

- I don't want to go…

Now Sandor Clegane stepped forward and looked at the men scornfully. His face was the darkest of theirs all and his eyes reminded everyone of thunderbolt being ready to pour out on the world.

- Stop this fucking whining. We will go and kill all the Boltons. Before that, none of us can sleep well at night.

- You are not our leader… - the lamentable voice sounded less loudly.

Clegane smirked nastily.

- I am not your leader, you are right. But it will be me who will crush your stupid head into pieces without a second of thinking if you dare to refuse to fight or try to leave the army without a permission.

No one said a word or complaint from that moment.

Sansa was listening to them, hiding behind the stone wall.

She was always wondering how men talk and behave when they are among themselves, without a female company, without forcing the compulsory courtesy and the sophisticated style of speech on themselves. She was not disappointed at all. What she especially fancied was Sandor's way of speech. If my arms consisted of such passionate, daring and wild men like him only, the Boltons would not even think about fighting against me, she thought.

From the place where she hid, she could see him clearly.

His badly burnt face, naughty smirk and rude, ruthless voice was frightening, his unusually tall and muscular figure with his huge sword in his big hand was not less scary – still she felt such kind of strong attraction to him that shocked and frightened her even more than his appearance.

When she was a young girl, she used to be scared of him from the very first moment when she saw him. His astonishing physical appearance, his injuries and his rough, merciless manners always made her scared and uncomfortable after being brought up as a pampered princess, but deep inside she knew that he was someone she could always rely on, especially after her father was murdered. He was always beside me, trying to take care of me and I never thought about his reasons, she wondered, and now it is my task to take care of him without making him aware of my own reasons. She suspected that he was in love with her and she understood why he never talked about his emotions to her. I would also never tell him about my own feelings for him, she smiled weakly, feeling excited because of her discoveries, love is something that will remain unsolved between us.

She was shivering under her fur coat and she knew that it was not only because of the cold. She left her hiding place and said a short farewell to her people, exchanged a quick, meaningful glance with Sandor Clegane who bowed to her before turning his horse and following the others through the gate.

A whole week passed when the first news arrived.

Ser Thomas wrote a short letter in which he told Sansa that they had been through a couple of smaller battles and that three of his men got slightly injured, but "everyone is ready to keep on fighting."

Sansa was glad to hear these news although it didn't stop her from speeding up the reconstruction works in and around Winterfell. She expected her little army to defeat the family of betrayals, the Boltons, but she was not that careless to just sit, lay back and wait without doing anything. The people working at the building sites didn't complain in her presence, but she often praised them and encouraged them to finish repairing the walls as quickly as possible because "Winter is here and our enemies are always awake. Their number may decrease but as long as Winterfell is standing and the North is powerful, there will always be people like the Boltons who want more of us".

Eight days later another message came, reporting that during the last battle, they managed to kill all of the men wearing the Boltons' coat of arms, however their leader, Donald Bolton and at least a dozen of his closest soldiers could escape.

- Coward bastards! – Sansa spat the words finishing the letter.

Ser Thomas revealed that he had lost dozen of his warriors and there had been also a couple of injured men as well but he tried to reassure her that despite the different kinds of difficulties they would keep on looking for and capture the enemy. He knew well that he had better not to hide anything from Lady Stark because she had become a ruthless queen who always wanted to hear the truth.

Sansa wondered how much and what Sandor Clegane had to say to be able to convince her army to continue fighting.

She wished she could have called her little army back but she knew that there would be no peace until the last Bolton was dead. During those days sometimes she dreamt of Ramsay Bolton, his unbelievable cruelty and the horrible months of their marriage again and she woke up crying. She knew that he would be unable to touch her anymore and now she was feeling fear not for herself but for her warriors fighting out there. She prayed every night that all of her remaining people could return home safe and sound.

The days passed more and more slowly. Sansa was waiting for news impatiently but as the days went by, she felt more anxiety and distress inside. When someone rode through the gate, she wondered with a growing stomach-ache and nausea if that person was a messenger and what kind of news he was carrying.

The next letter came fifteen days later and it told Sansa that they were still looking for Donald Bolton. They were searching for every little village and town carefully and thoroughly, every little cave, hut and forest was searched through with the greatest care, but still they were unable to locate him so far. The people on those areas were too afraid to tell them if they had seen any Boltons or the Boltons were so clever to travel at night and hide during the daytime.

Sansa prayed more than ever. She spent her mornings and nights in the Godswood, praying for her army, thinking of each of them. When she was not in the sacred wood, she spent her time on finishing the reconstruction works on the castle, taking care of her people, listening to the daily reports coming from every part of her kingdom.

She was thinking of Sandor Clegane as well – more than ever.

She missed him.

She couldn't tell what she was actually missing but when she looked at his empty chair during mealtime or the empty guest room where he used to spend his nights, she felt some kind of sadness. She wanted to see him and hear his voice so badly that it hurt. I wish he were here with me, grabbing me as he did in King's Landing when he saved me from being raped, she thought, but now I wish he wouldn't throw me up on his shoulders but pulling me close to his chest. She blushed discovering her physical desire for him and she tried to hush those thoughts away. What a shame, she scolded herself, he is out there fighting for my kingdom while I am daydreaming of him taking me into his arms like a stupid girl. Deep inside she admitted to herself that something was growing on inside her soul and heart that could not be denied anymore. It was so easy to behave like an ice queen when he was so close to me, she thought, but now, when he is so far away, fighting and living in danger, in an unknown distance and until an unknown future, she couldn't pretend to remain calm and cold anymore. Even if he cannot be mine, I need him beside me as long as I am alive, she added bitterly.

The last letter arrived two weeks later and it spoke about an unbelievable success: Donald Bolton was dead. Ser Thomas did not feel it important to tell that it was Sandor Clegane who caught the Boltons' leader and cut him almost into two parts with his tremendous sword while shouting and cursing as wildly as a wild bear. However, he told Sansa that three of the Stark warriors died as well, one of them lost his left leg, another became blind and but all the remaining ones were about to return to Winterfell.

Sansa was crying and laughing reading the news and she hurried to the Godswood to say her thanksgiving prayers.

It seemed to be forever when Ser Thomas sent a messenger forward, a young village boy, with only a simple sentence, that they would arrive Winterfell by the following evening.

Sansa became so nervous and excited that she was unable to eat or drink that day. She ordered the cooks to start preparing several litres of meat soup and dozens of roast chickens, peeling a mountain of potatoes, while the maids and other servants were getting ready to arrange comfortable, warm rooms and hot baths for the homecoming heroes. A large room on the ground floor, closest to the flower garden was being set up as a small hospital – Sansa suspected that there had been more injuries than Ser Thomas wanted to admit.

Since six o'clock Sansa was standing at the gate, waiting for her people to return. Her heart was beating wildly in her throat.