Watching the autumn sunlight filtering through the trees, Sansa feels most at home godswood outside the Eyrie. She spends most of her time here now, alone with her gods and her thoughts of Sandor. Her father always did the same she remembers; when troubled he would retreat to Winterfell's magnificent godswood for hours on end, seeking solace under the Heart tree.
Her southern mother never understood his devotion to the old gods but as a true daughter of Winterfell Sansa shares his enthusiasm. She finds comfort in knowing she is repeating a time-honored Stark tradition. Remembering him sharpening Ice's blade under the canopy of red leafed weirwood trees helps her forget her father's last moments in King's Landing. The faith of her father strengthens her; in the godswood Sansa hopes he watches her with a smile in the afterlife.
Here she is free: free of Petyr's unwanted advances, free of tiresome polite conversation, free of the claustrophobic castle walls that feel as though they will close in on her at any given moment. Free of phony smiles, free to express herself honestly instead of parroting Petyr's falsehoods that now easily slip off her once honest tongue. She hopes the gods will forgive her many lies; it is the only way she knows how to survive the gilded cage that is the Eyrie.
There is no political intrigue, no maids watching her every move, no masquerading as the bastard daughter of a loathsome man she despises. No ridiculous brown hair dye and clothing, no maneuvering and schemes, no perversion and debauchery...everything here is pure and innocent as she once was, before Joffrey betrayed and murdered her father.
Amid the beauty of the Vale's natural surroundings Sansa is able to forget her bleak situation for a few hours each day. She revels in the fresh snow blanketing the godswood, for the snow cleanses her Stark blood and purges the impurities Lord Baelish's company has wrought on her mind and heart. Snow smells sharp and clean like the North, like Winterfell and her beloved father...like home.
This is her place to remember the happiness of days gone by. The sad memories of her dead loved ones have no place here, for the trees stand as silent sentries protecting her from the darkness. Sandor is her constant companion; next to the pool she holds solemn vigil over his secret memorial by day and passionately loves him in her fevered dreams each night.
Remembering Sandor reminds her of the girl she was in King's Landing before Joffrey was king. Before the Freys and the brutality of the so-called Red wedding, before her mother was killed and Robb's corpse desecrated with the head of his beloved Greywind. The Lannisters spared no details when they broke the news to her. Gloating he had won the war, Joffrey sadistically related the circumstances of their deaths with nauseating embellishment. Tyrion raged over the cruel way she was told; by then she felt totally numb with grief, just as she felt when she heard of Sandor's death. Part of Sansa died that day; there are times she wishes she died with him and was spared the purgatory that is now her life.
Her mother continues in a purgatory of her own; Lady Brienne told her and Petyr about a dark magic that brought her mother back to life. Sansa is sickened knowing her gentle mother has been cruelly denied reuniting with her father in the afterlife. Beric Dondarrion performed a mystical ritual allowing him to give his life for hers, thus giving rise to the so-called Lady Stoneheart. Once the very picture of graciousness, this undead rotting monster inhabits the body of her mother now; seeking her missing daughters and satisfying her bloodthirst for those who took her family sustains her putrid existence.
No doubt planning to keep her to himself and use her as a substitute for her dead mother, Petyr did not reveal Sansa's true identity to Lady Brienne. It would not matter if he did however; Sansa will never consent to seeing the creature Lady Stoneheart. Daily she prays this unholy abomination will soon be put out of its misery, allowing her mother's body to finally rest in dignity.
In the frozen land beyond the Wall her half-brother Jon serves as Lord Commander on the Wall. Beyond that information she knows nothing more about him. She often wonders if Jon knows what has happened; she begs Petyr to send a raven to him but he refuses. "Too risky," he replies each time she has pleaded with him. Being patronized daily taxes her in so many ways she is surprised there is any courtesy left in her. "Risky for you," she fumes, biting back her words. They both know all too well what would happen should Jon appear one day with his fearsome direwolf Ghost by his side.
Growing up together Sansa mistreated him out of misplaced loyalty to her mother. Playing the bastard Alayne provides a unique insight into what Jon suffered from her mother. The lessons she has learned about the irony in life never fails to amazer her. If the opportunity arises she will tell Jon how deeply ashamed she is, that she loves him and hopes he will forgive her. It will be a new beginning for them as brother and sister and if that day should arrive she is determined she will make the most of it.
If anyone in the family will survive it will be Arya, no question about it. Sometimes she imagines her tomboy little sister bursting upon her in the godswood with Needle at her side and Nymeria dancing around her. In her daydreams there is no Theon Greyjoy or Ironborn polluting their beloved home; only the joy of the Starks returning to Winterfell at long last.
Memories of the strong bond she enjoyed with Lady leaves no doubt that Nymeria will find Arya one day, if indeed her little sister is alive. When her father killed Lady she experienced a gut wrenching pain as their bond abruptly ended, their connection dying as the lifeblood of her direwolf poured out on the ground.
The excruciating misery she suffered the rest of the trip to King's Landing is something she will never forget; when she thinks about it a long time the feeling returns to her as strong as ever. Unable to suppress her tears, she would notice Sandor watching her when he thought no one was looking, a pained expression softening his keen gray eyes. Watching over her became his daily habit from then on as they journeyed together south on the Kingsroad.
Sandor...his memory fills her heart with an impassioned love even grief cannot extinguish. A deep intimate connection with him courses through her blood each day as she visits his memorial in the godswood. When she dreams of Sandor the bond magnifies, adding a beautiful otherworldly intensity to the experience each night. The shared intimacy of mind and heart has become more real and intense than anything she has ever known, powerfully echoing throughout her body even as it defies logic and reason.
She wonders if somehow she could have bonded to Sandor in a way similar to what she shared with her beloved direwolf. Of one thing she is sure: any bond with Sandor-if there had ever been one to begin with-would not survive his death. She literally had felt the deaths of her father, her mother and Lady-but she cannot recall ever feeling the gut wrenching ending of a bond with Sandor. Her love for him is strangely powerful and all-consuming even after his death; undoubtedly the end of a bond with Sandor would have been the worst experience of all. She may not have survived it, considering the way she suffers for him now.
Perhaps it was due to the distance between them at the time of his passing. The Reeds would have been able to explain what is happening to her; she hopes one day she will see them again and find answers to her strange emotions. Alone in the godswood she feels Sandor's presence everywhere; it is as though he is right beside her every time she kneels before the Heart tree, just as he had been in King's Landing. Hope fills her heart, maybe the Stranger is considering returning Sandor to her after all. She knows if anyone knew her thoughts they would take her for a mad woman yet she continues her prayers daily for his return just the same.
Staring into the deep gray waters of the pool beside the Heart tree infuses in Sansa the will to survive, to honor the lives of those she has lost with her actions. Each day Sansa finds little bits of hope that weave together a web of strength, holding the most fragile pieces of her mind and heart together, enabling her to continue believing there will yet come a time for wolves.
The north will remember, the wolves will rise again...she hears the wind whispers to her as it rustles through the trees of the godswood. It is the voice of her father and mother, of Bran and Rickon and Robb-of that she is certain. She is a wolf, a Stark of Winterfell not the bastard of Petyr Baelish. None of his lying deception will turn her into the mockingbird of his sigil, chirping imitations of others and never speaking the truth for herself.
Darkness falls and Sansa hurriedly makes her way back to the Eyrie. When she enters her chambers she finds Petyr laying on her bed, awaiting her return. Confused, she glances around her; there is not a servant to be found anywhere. Nausea grips her stomach as she finds her voice, "Father, what are you doing here?"
"Sweetling!" he grins, mock paternal affection dripping from his lips. He stands and closes her door, putting a finger to his lips as he leans in close. "The time has come to reveal your true identity as Sansa Stark, the rightful heir of Winterfell." Confusion settles over her mind; fear creeps into her throat and once again threatens to render her speechless. After several moments she gathers herself, "What has happened? How is this possible?"
"The most powerful lords of the Vale demand that I relinquish custody of your cousin Robert. I have demanded a trial period for wardship over Sweetrobin, thus enabling me to stay Lord Protector of the Vale. Sweetrobin is far too ill to assume the role now. When my position is uncontested you will wed Harrold Hardyng, the Arryn heir apparent, making you Lady of the Vale. Then we will return you to the north and I will be able to secure Winterfell for you. I have arranged everything my dear, you will see."
Marriage? He will secure Winterfell? Terror descends upon Sansa like a shroud. Her mother's words echo in her mind, "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell"-not an Hardyng or a Baelish. She will never consent help anyone other than her own blood regain Winterfell and if she is wed to an Arryn heir, Winterfell will rightfully belong to the house of her lord husband. "But...I do not wish to wed. I...I am not fit to be his wife...my marriage to Tyrion is still valid," she sputters out in panic.
"All in good time, my dear Sansa. Your divorce from Tyrion is only a matter of time...I have brothers of the Seven on their way from the Quiet Isle as we speak. The right amount of coin will secure your divorce and then we shall proceed with my plans," he says, gripping her waist and pressing his manhood against her tightly while running his tongue over her mouth. "We must keep your maidenhead intact until then, Sweetling. Innocent Harry will be none the wiser and come your wedding night you will thank me," he purrs, his voice ragged with need.
Temporarily stunned, Sansa is neither unable to grasp his words or deflect his sexual advances. Inwardly she screams Sandor's name from the depths of her soul even as her voice remains silent,"Sandor, please hear me...I need you!" she calls to him. Strength and anger surge through her veins as she calls out to him. "I am a wolf, a Stark of Winterfell," the words replay in her mind. Mustering her courage she takes a step back, slapping him hard across the face with all her strength.
Petyr staggers backward holding his cheek in utter disbelief. "You didn't mean that, my dear...you are in shock and just need a little time," rage seethes in his voice as he yanks her closer to him. "In time you will understand the benefits of cooperating with me," he hisses, adjusting himself right in front of her. He pinches her cheek painfully before storming out of the room.
Sansa rushes toward the door, bolting it securely before sinking down to the weirwood floor in anguish. "Sandor, wherever you may be, I am so sorry I never told you how deeply I love you...I will regret it until the day I join you in the afterlife. Please hear me...I need you my love, now more than ever," she whispers to him like a prayer, her frightened tears streaming down her cheeks.