.

EPILOGUE II

Sandor found her at the Godswood. She liked to spend time there, among the scary trees. Though he hadn't liked the Godswood when he first arrived at Winterfell he had grown to enjoy the silence and calm it provided. It was almost the only place in the castle that allowed them to spend some time alone. Sandor found her sitting on a huge stone in front of the heart tree, staring at the calm waters of the pool and thought for the thousandth time how she was becoming more beautiful every day. Since those first weeks after they first arrived at Winterfell she struggled with her ghosts, to find her place, to feel comfortable and safe within the walls. He could see now that she had bloomed among the ruins, in the mud and with few resources. Now a smile was never far from her lips, lightening everything and everybody around her. He watched her working tirelessly; whether in the kitchens, meeting with her bannermen, dealing with merchants or managing the rebuilding of her ancestral home; and he knew she was happy there. Sansa watched him too. She especially liked to attend his lessons in the yard, as she did at the Wall. He often wondered how it could be possible for anyone to miss the warm looks and bright grins she threw his way every time he beat someone. Most times he couldn't help but to return them. Although his was a disgusting mockery of smile for all others, he knew it wasn't for her. She made him feel proud, but above all he was proud of her and of what she was achieving.

"You only come here when you're worried," Sandor said as he approached her.

She glanced in his direction and moved aside, leaving him space to sit next to her, "I'm not worried. I'm just… tired, I guess. How was the lesson today?"

"Your little wilding brother finished it with a bleeding nose"

"Oh! What happened?"

"As he wasn't doing any progress in beating me with the sword, he threw it and charged against me. I don't know what that wilding woman taught him, but I'm sure that charging with his head against a man ten times his height wasn't one of them!"

Sansa laughed imagining the scene, "Ah, my beastly little brother, so stubborn and wild.! Don't worry, he'll learn," she said as she rested her head on his shoulder and handled him a piece of paper.

"What's this?"

"A letter from Torrhen's Square. Lord Tallhart wants me to marry his son, " she sighed deeply and closed her eyes. "I'm tired of rejecting proposals… When Rickon came back, I thought this would finally be resolved, but it seems it isn't. The northern lords already have their revenge, their North, their peace, their Stark in Winterfell. I can't still understand why they still push for me to marry…"

"Because the man who marries you would hold a lot of power, and that's something any man desires. Maybe you should marry someone and finally end it. The Cerwyn heir seemed a good boy…"

Sansa lifted her head and stared at him incredulous, "The Cerwyn boy? Sandor, don't be ridiculous. Look at me and tell me that is what you want."

He couldn't, he could never lie to her. What I want is for it to be me you marry, little bird. To kiss you in front of that tree of yours, to hold you in my arms, take you to your chambers and never let you go because I am yours and you are mine.

"You already know the answer little bird," he replied instead.

"So, what do you really want Sandor?"

Her blue eyes pierced his, waiting for an answer, searching the depths of his soul, undoing him. Not for the first time he wondered if she was waiting for him to ask her the same question as all those infatuated men before him had, if she was waiting for her song to be finally completed by him. He wondered if he would have better luck if he ever dared to try.

That night Sandor found her in her room, thoughtfully writing one of the letters that left her fingertips spotted with ink. She enjoyed writing and kept a constant correspondence with her bannermen, with her brother, with Stannis, even with the Dreadfort, although Sandor doubted Tormund could read a single word without the help of a maester. She left her task when she heard him unfastening his cloak. While he undressed, he chuckled at the dazzled expression and foolish smile with which she still welcomed the sight of his hulking body.

"I think your friend knows," he said, tossing aside his tunic.

"Jeyne? Why do you think so?"

"She just smiled at me, and the cripple Greyjoy wasn't even close."

Sansa rose from her seat with an amused smile, closing the space between them. Sandor surrounded her waist with his hands as she wrapped her arms around his broad neck and regarded him thoughtfully.

"She is just grateful because she knows you take care of me. Who cares if she knows…"

She kissed him and the familiar desire he felt when she was close jolted through him once more. He had been inside her dozens of times since their first time at Castle Black, but his hunger for her had only grown stronger with familiarity. Sansa Stark was one of the most powerful women in the Seven Kingdoms now, and certainly the most desired. But as she had told him once long ago, in his embrace she was just a woman who needed to be cared for and cuddled by someone who simply loved her. And there was nothing he had ever wanted so much as to please, worship and love her.

"Let her smile whatever she wants…" she muttered against his mouth. "Let them say whatever they want…"

Sandor took her to bed and made love to her until she peaked under him and cried out his name. Exhausted and sated, he hugged her tight against his chest and brushed her back as he knew she liked.

"Are you happy Sansa?" he asked, "Is this what you wanted when you dreamt of Winterfell?"

"I am. Sometimes I feel so… complete that I think I don't deserve so much happiness. And you, Sandor? Are you happy?"

He hesitated for a moment thinking of an answer, "I hadn't thought about it before but…" she lifted her head to look at him and frowned, "I guess I've been happy ever since the day you arrived at the Quiet Isle to pray for the Hound and made me break that bloody vow of silence. So aye, I'm happy since you came into my life again. "

Sansa smiled, tilting her head and squinting her eyes in that way he so much loved. "I love you Sandor," she whispered staring into his eyes. He cupped her cheek and brushed it with his thumb, "I love you too, little bird."