A/N: Alright, so I had been kind of mulling this particular idea over for a while now and I'm finally getting around to posting it. I read somewhere once that someone did a comparison of Sansa to Queen Elizabeth I of England, and given that as a dedicated SanSan shipper I was not only disappointed that D&D decided to kill off the Hound, but also cheapened his and Sansa's last scene together EVER, this little piece came into being. I hope you all enjoy it. And remember no flames. Flames killed the Hound. With help from the Mountain. That said, read and enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own GOT, ASOIAF, or any of the characters, George R.R. Martin does, with HBO having the rights to the screen-work.
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She would never marry again.
Twice she had been forced to marry men she neither knew nor loved. One had been a dwarf, the other a vile monster that made Joffrey seem tame by comparison.
Neither one had been like him.
"None of it would have ever happened if you had left with me," he had said to her. And he had been right.
Sansa Stark knew that the horrors that befell her ever since that night would have never had a chance to come to pass if she had left King's Landing with Sandor Clegane the night the Blackwater burned. But she had been so sure that she would be safe that she had refused.
She had often thought after that how differently things might have turned out had she taken his offer. Yes, she would have remained a Little Bird to a certain extent, but she would have also been able to be with him.
Her first husband, Tyrion the Imp of House Lannister, now served as Hand of the King for her brother Bran in the south. Her second husband Ramsay Bolton, a bastard in every sense of the word, was now long since dead, devoured by the very hounds he was so fond of setting on anyone he wished to torment. But so was the man she could certainly have seen herself marrying.
She was Queen in the North now, and even if they had married, she knew titles never meant anything to Sandor Clegane. He would have never even considered usurping authority of the North from her.
But he was gone too.
Before Arya left to explore what lay west of Westeros, she had told Sansa that Sandor was gone, his drive to get revenge on his brother just too strong for him to fight anymore. And now while the feud between the Clegane brothers was now dead and gone, so were both of the brothers themselves.
There was no love lost whatsoever for Gregor, but Sandor's death had torn a hole in her that Sansa knew nothing could ever truly fill. He was gone forever from her life. She didn't even have anything of him to bury.
"You should have never left," she murmured softly as she watched the snow swirl about outside of her window, unshed tears stinging her eyes. "It never would have happened if you stayed here in Winterfell. No fire, no Gregor."
He had said before only one thing could make him happy. He had been looking at her when he said it. No wonder he became so irascible; how much more apparent did it have to be?
"I would have made you happy," the tears were now falling as swiftly and abundantly as the snow outside. "I would have protected you like you tried to protect me...but I couldn't...forgive me..."
...
"I shall never marry," Sansa declared softly before the Northern lords.
"But Your Grace-" Lord Glover had started to speak, but Sansa raised a hand to stop him.
"I swear by the old gods and the new," she said, her gaze as cold and steely as the battlements of Winterfell itself. "I, Sansa Stark, Queen in the North, shall never take a husband nor give myself to any man."
'For the man to whom I would have gladly given myself is gone. And I will allow no other to ever take the place that should have been his and his alone,' she said inwardly.
"For I am married to the North," she spoke aloud.
...
...
Alright, I hope you lovely readers enjoyed that, short as it was, and feel free to let me know. Until the next story, everyone. And no flames.