Sansa

"When will Tyrion arrive?" Sansa asked as she shrugged into her long, grey fur-lined coat, Sandor holding it as she turned and slipped her arms into the sleeves.

"Tonight, I should think, if it doesn't snow again. He said in his letter he was resting at an Inn last night and should be here by the late afternoon at the earliest," he replied as she turned to face him, buttoning her coat closed. He reached out and fixed the fur collar which was folded back on itself. She smiled up at him and slipped her gloves on over her hands.

They were going to visit Hadass' grave, they did so every day if they could, snow had fallen thick and heavy through the past few weeks, now well into winter and today the sun was glistening behind heavy white clouds and the entire gardens were covered in a thick blanket of snow.

Sansa slipped her fur bonnet carefully over her hair which Shae had piled atop her head in an elaborate fashion.

They walked together in the snow, Sansa delighting in it crunching beneath her feet, the hem of her dress and coat brushing the soft white powder, reminding her of home. She was quite used to cold weather but with the woolen dress and huge fur coat, gloves and hat and the heat of her husband she snuggled into as they walked she felt quite warm and content. The air nipped at her cheeks and nose coloring them red and she giggled and teased Sandor when she saw his nose a pretty pink color.

The beach was a blanket of snow upon the sand, the sea crashing and spraying way below them. She looked up at the Godswood tree away in front of them, its red leaves as bright as blood, shining in the soft sunlight, a brilliant contrast against the pure white landscape.

They couldn't kneel; the snow would soak them through so they simply stood, heads bowed and eyes closed. Sandor stuffed his hands in his pockets while Sansa pressed her lips to her gloves as she prayed. When they were done they strolled leisurely in the snow, chatting aimlessly.

She hurried over to a small bed of snowbells that were growing from beneath the snow, she touched one drooping white bud fondly then nearly fell over at the sudden impact against her back.

She yelped and jumped up, turning around to find her coat covered in a ball of white snow. She glared over to Sandor who stood, hands behind his back, looking up at the sky whistling. The picture of innocence.

Sansa grinned and crouched down, gathering snow and pressing it into a ball, Sandor's attention returned to her then, façade leaving as he grinned, making ready to run. She launched the snowball at him and he dogged to the side, it soaring past to splatter against the ground.

He laughed out loud, "you'll have to do better than that little b-" he shut up abruptly when a ball of snow crashed into his face.

Sansa's laugher filled the air, having to clutch her sides when he blinked and wiped the melting snow from his face.

"Oh you're in trouble now, girl" he growled out and Sansa squeaked as he launched after her.

She ran, laughing and squealing and shouting out to him when he slipped on the snowy ground and fell flat on his backside. That caused her to laugh even harder and he jumped up, ready to pursue her again.

His hands grabbed her waist from behind and pulled her backwards, both of them falling to lie on the snow. His fingers tickled her and she squealed and laughed. He rolled her over so he was above her, gathering some snow in his hand and threatened to rub it in her face.

"No! I yield! I yield!" she squeaked out through her laugher.

He chuckled, throwing the ball of snow aside and leaned down close to her, "that's better, little bird."

She stuck her tongue out at him and he chuckled before kissing her lips gently. She kissed him back, sighing and tangling her hands into his hair wet from the snowball. His arms came around her, lifting her up out of the snow that was melting and soaking her coat and hair. He cradled her in his arms and she smiled against his lips. He held her close, kneeling with her in the snow and she sighed, opening her mouth to him. She shivered when his tongue slipped slowly into her mouth. She moaned involuntarily and pulled away, blushing. He smiled at her response and she cupped his cheek in her hand, kissing his scars softly.

"Let's get back, you're soaked and I don't want you getting ill," he murmured softly.

She nodded and he rose with her still in his arms, setting her gently on the ground.

V

Later that night, Sansa sat in Sandor's study while he worked at his desk. She was settled on the floor in front of the fireplace, her auburn hair drying slowly as she sewed.

Being in Sandor's study was a new development in their relationship – one of many. Before, Sandor's study had been the one place she was not allowed to go, because it was his private place, and also because above the fireplace hung Hadass' painting.

But now, she knew all there was to know about him, and he about her. And Sandor enjoyed having her in the study while he worked, she would often look up from her book or sewing or whatever else she was doing to find him watching her fondly.

This time she was watching him; he was writing a long letter to about some business – Sansa didn't pay much attention to the small details. His hair fell over his scars with his head angled to the side. His writing was quick and messy and he would every now and then sigh and lean back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face and groan. Usually after finishing a long letter.

She frowned as she watched him write and he noticed, "What's the matter?"

She looked up at his gentle voice and smiled reassuringly, "oh it's nothing. It's just…I wrote a letter to Arya a few weeks ago – before your birthday. I haven't yet had a reply. I hope she received it."

She thought for a while, what if her parents had decided they couldn't forgive her elopement and had banned Arya from speaking to her? What if Arya was angry with her – hearing about all the good things here – the sea, somewhere Arya had always yearned to see and sail upon. Sansa realized she had boasted in the letter, caught in expressing how happy she was…did she even ask Arya how she was? What was happening? She couldn't even remember.

Sandor's hand touched her arm gently and she jumped, seeing him kneel before her, not hearing him rise from his seat.

"I'm sure it just got a lost, or perhaps her reply is slow because of this weather – that usually happens."

Sansa smiled and nodded, letting him think she accepted his answer. He rose and made his way over to his desk but paused when a knock sounded at the door. Joseth peered in, "sir, Mr. Tyrion Lannister has arrived."

Sandor grinned, "Bring him here" he commanded.

Sansa smiled, her spirits lifted at the prospect of seeing the dwarf again, she set aside her sewing and rose, moving to stand beside her husband and a small, blonde, mismatched-eyed body entered the room.

"I never thought these eyes would be so glad to see that ugly face," Tyrion quipped as he entered, grinning up at Sandor.

Sandor laughed, "Aye, I must say I've missed craning my neck to look all the way down at you, imp."

They laughed and shook hands, Sansa didn't think she would ever understand their relationship but she found herself smiling.

Tyrion turned to her, holding her hand in two of his and looking up at her with a happy expression, "this face, however, I could look upon for many years. How are you dear Sansa?"

Sansa grinned and kneeled to kiss his cheek, "very well," she said, laughing when his cheeks turned red, "it is so good to see you, Tyrion."

"Yes, well, I am one to sorely miss."

Sansa stayed with them as they spoke, Tyrion told her of her family's health – Bran had began attending his first balls and there was a proposed courtship between him and a young lady named Meera. Arya was as wild as ever, Robb and Jeyne were to be married in the spring, Jon was proposing to join the military – Sansa knew it was something he had always had his heart set upon. And Margery and Reny were planning a spring wedding. She smiled at everything he told her but she was still concerned. She wondered why Arya had not written all this to her. Her letter couldn't have been lost due to the snow – she had sent it well before the first snowfall and would have had a reply back.

As she thought more and more into it her spirits fell some, tiredness took over her and her eyes were drooping heavy. She stood and excused herself, kissing Sandor goodnight and noticing Tyrion's eyebrows lift and mouth drop open at that. She smiled at him and kissed his cheek, bidding them both goodnight and left the room.

She resolved to writing Arya another letter in the morning and sending it off, it wouldn't do much good but it would give her some rest of mind if she did. She missed her sister most of all and wished she was here with her.

But as soon as she slipped between her bedcovers sleep stole her away.

V