I'd like to thanks everyone who read this estory untill here, I hope you had enjoyed to read it as much as I enjoyed to write. And a special thanks to Hija de Sandor and Magnus374, who put a smile on my face with each review of them, I really loved.

Now, I leave you with the last part of this story...

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The war ended that night. The Night King perished under Jon's sword, but not without hurting him to death. Queen Daenerys lost another of her dragons, and which remained, Rhaegal, ascended to the sky and since then rarely been seen. Even though it is an animal, it should be difficult to carry the stigma of being the last of its kind.

Sansa understood this decision a little. As Ned Stark's last daughter in Winterfell, she was sometimes dominated by loneliness. Her sister had not returned from her journey to the south, and when Bran returned after the battle, he told everyone how everything was almost lost before Cersei's army went to their rescue. Sansa knew Arya was involved in it, which had probably cost her life; months of torturous hope passed before Sansa accepted, her little sister never would coming back.

With Bran it was different, he no longer felt part of Winterfell and decided to leave to the north of what remained of the Wall a few weeks after the army of the dead to be defeated. Many savages accompanied him on this journey. It was sad, but the choice had been his.

Sansa stared at the heart tree beside her and touched its white bark wondering if Bran would ever see her there at some point thinking about the lives that had been lost. Jon, Tormund, Beric, the gentle Sor Davos, Jaime Lannister and Sandor.

Sandor …

It was still painful to think about him, but Sansa would not allow herself to forget him, she could not forget him. She moved her hand away from the tree and turned her attention to the lake where two children played, a blond boy and a dark-haired girl. They were so happy playing in the cold waters in the heat of the summer sun. As the elders said, after the long night the longest summer of all would come; it had been almost seven years since the last snow, and every year that passed, she wondered if her family's words had lost the reason for their existence.

Winter is coming…

For sure? Sansa could not say, but she would keep repeating those words until her last breath. The children came out the water. The boy ran out of the woods, and the girl came toward Sansa smiling, and she smile back and opened a huge towel to wrap around her.

"You said you would enter the lake."

"You were having so much fun, I did not want to disturb you." She said as she dried the girl's hair.

"You never disturbs, mama." Sansa hugged her daughter, feeling her heart warm and kissed her on the cheek.

"Come on, it's lunch time."

They left the woods hand in hand, the sadness forgotten for a moment.

"What was he like, mammy?"

"You always ask that, you must know better than I do now."

"I like when you speak, it's easier to imagine."

Sansa's heart tightened a little.

"Close your eyes." The girl obeyed, and Sansa covered her with her blankets. "He was tall, much taller than anyone here in Winterfell. Strong too, stubborn and rather sullen. His voice was thick and his laugh sounded like a dog's bark." The daughter always laughed at that part. Sansa sat down on the bed beside her. "His dark hair was the same as yours, and he had a scar capable to scared little children." She completed doing tickle on the girl who squirmed while laughing loudly.

After leaving her daughter's chamber, Sansa went to her own and stopped in front of the window. She closed her eyes and remembered Sandor. She did this almost every night. At first, for the pain of feeling he die in her arms. Later, when she discovered that she was pregnant, for to be able to tell the baby she carried how her father was. She placed her hands on the belly. It was a shock to discover that she carried a child, for an insanity moment she thought it was Ramsay's and almost committed a madness against her and the child, but then she realized that it was Sandor's, and her heart quieted and tears came in a flood. He had not left her alone, even dead, he had not abandoned her. While her belly grew, she told stories to the child, not the tales of knights and beautiful maidens with which she was raised, but of her family, of her parents, brothers and sister, and what she knew about Sandor; saddened her to know him so little, however it was when she talked about him that her baby moves more in her belly. Sansa thought it would be a boy, by the force with which it kicked her, but when her daughter was born, screaming and kicking as if her life depended on it, she knew she had given birth to a warrior, as her father had been before. She opened her eyes and ran her hands over her arms, in a few years she would ask Brienne teach her daughter to handle daggers and swords, and Sansa knew that she would be radiant to follow her father's steps, even not knowing him, she loved him.

Love... Sansa loved Sandor because he had given her her most precious possession, and perhaps she had loved him as a man if he had had more time at her side; was not the first time her thoughts had moved in this direction and she knew it would not be the last. He had made her feel protected, wanted, even loved, and she would always prefer his sincerity, bordering on cruelty, to lies spoken with sweet words. Yes, she could have loved him. Feeling nostalgic, she lay on her bed and fell asleep in a dreamless sleep.

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Years later

Eileen Stark was the new commander of Winterfell, and her first order was to have her mother's face carved in the crypt enclosing her body. She assessed the result now. It was a similar face, but it was not her mother's. It did not have her smile or the brightness of her eyes. She missed her so much that hurts. She took a deep breath, reserved her tears for the comfort of her bed, now she had a castle to command. She pulled the dagger from her belt and cut her finger before passing it over the statue's hair, her mother had red hair, her statue should have it too, at least a wick. She kissed her hand and pressed on the crypt beside before leaving. Her parentes now rested side by side.