Author's Note: Thank you so much for everyone who continues to read, follow, and favorite my story! There is a bit of a time jump to this chapter, so bear with me. I've been researching theories like crazy for how the series will come to an end, but nothing I've been reading has been gelling with what is already in my head. That issue has been giving me a major case of writer's block, so I had to come to a decision in order to finish the story. Due to my issues resolving what will happen at the wall, any further action there will be mostly absent from this story and told only second-hand. I apologize if anyone was really hoping for a big, epic sequence, but I tried going down that route and it just wasn't happening. No gaps will be left unfilled though. All will be told and explained. Thanks for reading my whole long-winded explanation! Read on and enjoy!
"The chill is gone from the air."
Sansa didn't leave her seat at the food of the weirwood tree but instead looked down to find Sandor's somber expression floating above her in the rippling water. She had come to the godswood for a moment of thanks to the gods for the good news they continued to receive from both Jon and Ser Jaime of the struggles beyond the wall. With the addition of the Targaryen queen along with her three fearsome dragons, the tide had finally turned to favor the living inhabitants of Westeros.
"Look," she tilted her head in the direction of the blood red leaves decorating the branches above their head. "They seem to know it's safe to come out."
The low rumble in Sandor's chest caught Sansa off guard. "Perhaps they do, little bird."
Rather than pursue the topic of Sandor's rare mirth, Sansa voiced the words that had been burdening her since the letter had arrived that morning. "Lord Tyrion will be paying us a visit as soon as he is able."
Her unexpected announcement was met with nothing but silence. Braving a look again in the water to see his expression, Sansa was miffed to find the image gone and heavy footsteps crunching over the dead grass leaving the reflecting pool. "You have nothing to say then?" she stood and shouted at his retreating back.
He halted, his shoulders stiff and unyielding, and pivoted around to shoot her a look brimming with silent hostility. "What would you have me say?" He growled the words more than spoke them.
Though he might have been content to let the simmering emotions between them lie stagnant since the departure of the soldiers to the Wall, Sansa had been anything but. Aside from his brief kiss on the day he had accepted her offer of service, he had been nothing but professional and distant whenever they interacted with one another.
In fact, this had been the first moment they had shared without the company of Amarah, Lady Brienne, or one of the many other cohabitants of Winterfell. She suspected that their lack of privacy had been by design and not chance, but as a married woman, she understood that she had no claim on his time or affections. No matter how she wished it to be otherwise.
However, when she had received Tyrion's letter that morning and saw the words in devilish black on the parchment confirming once again the unwanted attachment she shared with another, her resolve to keep her emotions quiet had been worn precariously thin. The private moment between her and Sandor in the godswood had now erased it completely.
She stood there in righteous fury, staring down the man who had wrapped himself around her heart and affections so thoroughly she know she would never shake him free. Her annoyance caused her to say aloud the words that had been left unspoken for far too long. "I would have you say what you feel. I would shave you listen to me say that I love you and not turn me away in scorn or derision. I would have you take me in your arms and vow to fight for me, no matter what the cost."
When she ran out of vitriol to aim at his stony expression, he spoke with words no less hostile than hers. "What then, my lady?" he spat her title out as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth. "When the vows of love that you so desire to hear are spoken, they will still be as useless as they had been if left unsaid."
"No." She shook her head in denial. "They would not." She desperately longed for an argument to support her claim but could think of none, so she was left to stand there with only empty promises and angry words hanging between them.
Sandor shook his head in disgust when she could say nothing else. "Do not lie to yourself as well as me."
Having nothing left to say, he turned on his heel and left as silently and abruptly as he appeared. Helpless to argue against his final comment, Sansa sighed in disappointment and returned to her spot before the reflecting pool.
"I will simply tell Tyrion that our marriage must be dissolved," she spoke to her reflection, half expecting the mirror image to laugh in derision at her simply-stated solution. Despite his physical disadvantages, Tyrion was every bit as formidable a foe as the other lions that shared his name. If he wanted to continue this farce of a marriage between them, there would be little she could do to convince him otherwise.
Her inward scolding at her own foolishness was halted by the rustle of leaves to her left. She glanced in the direction of the sound expecting a reappearance by the temperamental hound, but her eyes widened to stare in shock at the sight of the figure that crept silently from the woods.
Though taller than she had remembered with a figure befitting a woman rather than a child, there was no mistaking the stamp of the Stark features on that face. "Arya?"
The stunned word was all she could manage to croak out at being confronted with the face of the sister she had so long thought lost to her. Arya's dark brows drew together at the sound of her name on Sansa's lips.
"I haven't been called that in some time." She spoke the words softly in a voice that had been lowered and roughed over time.
Still trying to master the realization that she was now face-to-face with her lost sibling, Sansa rose, cautiously approaching Arya as one might draw near a frightened pup. She might have had Arya's face, but nothing else about this person beyond her face seemed familiar to Sansa. The joyful exuberance for life that had always brimmed in her sister's eyes was now replaced with the careworn expression one might find in a knight who had fought his fair share of battles, leaving him jaded to the joy of the world around him. It was a startling contrast to the impish tomboy of a sister she had known so well.
Though she half expected Arya to scamper away or dissolve in a puff of smoke, the young woman stayed still long enough to Sansa to reach her. "You're here."
A brief smile flickered across her expression before it scampered away like a ray of sunlight blocked out by a thundercloud. "I came for a reason."
"Where have you been? Why did you not return sooner?" Sansa couldn't keep the questions from tumbling from her mouth, barely registering Arya's dire expression. However, her little sibling brushed off the unwanted questions as if they were nothing but pesky flies.
"Sansa," she reached forward, clasping Sansa's pale fingers in her much rougher ones. "Where is Amarah?"
Sansa ceased her questions as a chill raced down her spine at Arya's words. "She was resting in her rooms last I saw her. Why? What is it?"
Arya didn't bother to answer this question either. Pivoting in the direction of the keep, she urged Sansa to follow her. "I must speak with her. Now."
Knowing it would be foolish to argue, Sansa followed in her sister's wake. Whatever Arya's reason for searching out Amarah, it seemed to be of the direst importance that they find the woman in question as soon as possible. As they clomped through the wood in silence, Sansa tried to ignore the niggling suspicion in the back of her head that they were too late.
Amarah stood from her chair by the fire, stretching out the kinks that had accumulated in her back during her unplanned nap. She patted the small swell at her stomach and smiled at the thought that her little one must be gaining quite a lot of strength with all the rest she was bestowing on him.
Once the comfort had been restored to her limbs, she looked down where her hand rested at her belly. "Would you like to hear your papa's letter again?" she asked the child inside.
Though the young child's existence had been quite an unpleasant surprise to her at first, she had grown more used to the idea of a child the longer Jaime's absence increased. In some way, it was like having a physical piece of her lover with her as comfort while he was gone. Lately, she had taken to reading Jaime's letters aloud to her little one, pretending as if the golden-haired god were with them and regaling them in person with his tales from beyond the wall.
An image of her child and lover sitting together before the fire brought a fond smile to her lips as she went to retrieve the folded parchment from where she had left it before drifting to sleep. Just as she was about to curl her fingers around the waiting letter, she looked up at the sound of someone else entering the room.
Expecting to see Brienne of one of the other servants awaiting instructions for the evening, she drew back in surprise at the monstrous figure that blocked out most of the light from the fire. She hadn't seen a creature that massive since –
Amarah wasn't given time to complete the thought before the monstrous creation reached her in three strides and unceremoniously threw her across his shoulders like a sack a grain. She opened her mouth to scream for help against her unknown assailant but the sound never had a chance to escape her lips.
As soon as he had her secured on his shoulders, she felt herself swinging in the direction of the stone wall behind them as he changed direction. Before she even knew what was happing, the hard had surface collided with her skull effectively preventing her from thinking anything at all for quite some time.
More explanation on Arya's appearance to come in the next chapter! Stay tuned!