Dreams No Mortal Ever Dared to Dream Before

With the restoration of the great castle complete, Winterfell's massive granite walls gleam brightly in the morning sunlight. Winterfell has never looked more beautiful, Sansa inwardly muses while Ser Jorah gently leads her on a tour of the refurbished castle. If only Sandor were here, this would be the perfect morning…

As they stroll the grounds, Ser Jorah directs her attention to the ceiling of the Great Hall, the Library tower, the Maester's Turret and the bridge connecting the Bell Tower to the rookery. Sansa delights to see they all have been returned to their former glory. The First Keep and the Broken Tower have each been restored as well. The sight fills Sansa with sorrow, for her father is not there to see the castle in its current pristine condition.

Sighing heavily, Sansa allows Ser Jorah to take her to the godswood. Despite the war, it is just as it has been for a thousand years: peaceful, quiet, and frosted in a light dusting of snow. Reverentially Sansa looks around the holy place before approaching the Heart tree. Kneeling before the immense white tree, she silently offers her prayers to the old gods. Thank you for restoring my family home, and for the health and safety of my children, my husband, my family and our people. Please keep my family safe.

Ser Jorah kneels beside her and offers his own petitions in silence. A stiff breeze wafts through the godswood, stirring up the red leaves in a way that is reminiscent of a similar occurrence after she and Sandor finished saying their vows before the massive weirwood in White Tree. The rustling of the wind in the trees sounds almost like a young man's voice…"Bran?" Sansa whispers. "Are you here? Brother, can you hear me?"

"Yes, I am here," her brothers voice carries on the wind. "I heard your prayers to the Heart tree. Howland and Jojen encouraged me to listen for you. Remember what Father taught us about the weirwoods?"

Glancing over at Ser Jorah, Sansa notices that while he is deep in prayer, he does not appear to hear her brother. It is as though time has stood still for the knight while a uncanny silence has fallen over the rest of the godswood. All of this is Bran's doing. Marveling at the gift the old gods have bestowed upon her brother, Sansa finally nods fervently. "Yes, Bran, that they are all connected and they all hear our prayers."

"I know it is difficult to believe but it is true," the wind howls through the godswood. "I am never far from you."

Smiling, she pats the trunk of the tree. "Brother, how is it you speak to me through the Heart tree now and not before?"

"I needed time to learn how to hone my gifts."

Sadly she reaches out and caresses the white bark tenderly. "We miss you so, Bran."

"I am here at Winterfell with you and Arya, Sansa. Do not cry, sister," the leaves rustle around her. "The wolves have returned, Sansa; your wolf has returned here as well."

"Lady-how?" Her head snaps up to the sky above them. Even the birds remain silent sentries over them under Bran's spell. "What do you mean?"

"Her body and spirit long ago returned to the Kings of Winter but Lady has never stopped watching over you, Sansa. Her and Father, together with Grey Wind and Robb, protect you and Arya, and me and Rickon as well."

Sansa often felt her Father's presence in both the Red Keep and the Eyrie; in fact, it happened so frequently that for a time she wondered if she was losing her mind.

Bran answers her thoughts. "Father, remembering King Robert's words, called to the Hound to find you in the Eyrie. Once Sandor found peace there, he then heard Father, though he did not realize it, and allowed himself to eagerly be led to the Wall in hopes of seeing you."

Frantically she searches her memory. "What words did Father remember?" Sansa chokes out. "Please, tell me."

"'Get her a dog, she'll be happier for it'," a cool gust rushes through the trees. "When he saw what Lord Baelish was truly about, Father called to Sandor on the Quiet Isle to help you escape the Vale. He gave you the strength to endure and bide your time, and to act when need be. By the time the thing was done, Sandor was well on his way. Lady and Grey Wind protected him as he journeyed to you. It was Father who coerced Jon to admit Sandor to Castle Black."

During the darkest hours the Starks had ever faced, the gods had acted in their behalf; it was both incredible and amazing. All the time Sansa had despaired, broken and alone, for being the last survivor of her family, in truth they had never been far away. Her tears flowing freely, Sansa struggles to put her many questions into words, struggles to comprehend all that Bran has told her. After several moments, Sansa finally finds her voice once more. "Was it Father who warned me to return to Castle Black right before the Others attacked?"

"Yes. Lady guided you and Sandor into the Vale, to the cabin, and warded off the mountain clans. She directed Nymeria to you. She protected you, Sandor, and the babes throughout your journeys. When you were hurt, she called to Ghost and Nymeria to kill the Boltons who attacked you, giving you a chance to escape."

Her gentle, sweet Lady is alive and protecting her from the afterlife? The thought is overwhelming and yet comforting. "It is incomprehensible, Bran," Sansa shakes her head. "I prayed and prayed and never thought the gods heard me. I thought I was alone."

"Your faith wavered, Sansa but the gods heard you. The old gods allowed Lady, Father, Robb and Grey Wind's deaths, knowing that what awaited us would require far more protection than what they could offer here."

"And what did they grant Lady, brother?"

"She was reborn into a far more powerful creature, the Wolf Mother, capable of guiding both man and animal from the afterlife."

"Is she protecting Sandor now?"

"Yes; your husband is safe, sister, as is Arya and Jon. All are returning to you."

"Thank you for telling me." Pausing, she asks, "How did you learn all of this?"

"The Kings of Winter revealed it through the weirwoods. I must go, Sansa."

"I love you, Bran-we all do. I will bring Catya and Edric to see you soon."

With that she feels Bran's presence leave her and yet both the godswood and Ser Jorah remain undisturbed. Afraid to feel, Sansa has heavily guarded her emotions, but now all she has kept buried in her heart-crippling grief, anger, mourning and fear-now break free at last in the young woman. Elder brother had warned her that when she felt safe and secure, these unresolved emotions would demand their due, and at last Sansa finally sobs out her anguish, releasing all she has held close to her heart since her father died. As she does so, relief washes over her, calming her, somehow restoring her heart and mind.

With the help of the gods, she has survived the worst of times, and now Sansa senses the gods are renewing her, casting out the harmful remainders of her past traumas and forging her into a stronger, more powerful woman. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell, she whispers, and the Starks will endure. We always have. With new resolve, Sansa rises to her feet and thanks the gods that they have healed her just as they have restored the great granite castle she calls home. Resting her cheek on the trunk of the godswood, Sansa gives thanks for her family, for those who survived to see the mighty Winterfell restored and to those who are fallen and watching over them from the afterlife.

After she composes herself, Sansa ends her prayers by thanking the old gods for the many miracles the old gods have performed for her family, dries her tears, and then slowly rises to her the sound of chirping birds returns to the godswood.

Jorah raises his eyes to her. "Are you ready to continue my lady?"

"Yes," Sansa smooths down the front of her gown. "I am ready. Let us visit the lichyard."

Upon entering the lichyard, Sansa is greeted by a sight she has never seen in her northern home: the ground is ablaze with alpine wildflowers. In the center three granite reliefs rise from the garden depicting the likenesses of fallen Starks and their direwolves.

"It is to provide a private area for mourning at Lady's grave," Ser Jorah explains.

"How thoughtful!" Hastily Sansa strides toward the restored monument. "Lady, thank the gods for you, my beloved one." Unable to hold back, the young woman cries anew, gently caressing the statue.

"Easy, my lady, easy," Ser Jorah softly admonishes. "You must be careful. You are still healing." Nodding toward the stature, he adds, "She's very beautiful."

"Yes, she was." Sansa whispers, reverently running her hands over the likeness of her beloved pet. "And she still is."

The knight knowingly agrees and offers her his arm. Remembering Jorah is also a Northman, Sansa asks, "Do the Mormonts keep greatbears as we keep direwolves?"

"Aye, as children we do, before the skinchanging takes hold," Ser Jorah replies, "though we don't speak of it to outsiders. It frightens them."

"I know, it is the same with us. Did you have a greatbear of your own?"

"No, it seems the gift resides with the ladies of House Mormont, not the men. I did have a very well trained raccoon, though."

"That is so funny-a raccoon among the bears," Sansa laughs despite her emotional state. "Perhaps one day you will have a daughter who will carry on the tradition."

"I do have a daughter, my lady, but she was bastard born and came to live with her Wilding mother after I was forced out by my sire. I never knew her."

"Have you looked for her, Ser Jorah?"

Staring off into the distance, he shakes his head. "No time for it, what with the wars…I am not certain she is even alive."

"I see," Sansa pats his arm understandingly. "If you should wish her found, my sister and I will gladly use whatever means necessary to do so. Say the word, Ser Jorah, and it is done."

Ser Jorah's eyes crinkle up in a soft smile. "You are too kind. Ser Davos says Rickon is doing well with Shireen and the family."

"Yes," Sansa smiles brightly, "it is best for now, I believe, that he experiences a normal, loving family life free of the troubles of rulership. The lad so wanted to go, having developed quite a liking to Shireen, and he has known so little peace in his young life that neither Arya nor I could deny him the opportunity. He and Bran both deserve to live peaceful lives amongst family and Arya and I are determined to see that they do."

"That is very good of you, but Ser Davos is not family."

Frowning, Sansa shrugs. "I know that is the northern view, but Shireen is kin to both Jon and Gendry, and that makes us relations. We Starks have lost so much that we make our own family now."

"I understand; Danaerys ascribes to a similar philosophy."

"Ser Davos and the rest of the Seaworth family are part of us-just as you are. If ever you find King's Landing no longer suits you, Ser Jorah, I hope you will consider returning to us."

Grinning, the knight pats her arm appreciatively. "Thank you, Lady Sansa; that is most kind. However, my place is with the queen in the capital." Turning to her, Ser Jorah asks, "What will you do now that your family seat is restored?"

For some time Sansa has entreated the gods for guidance on this very subject, for ever since she returned to Winterfell, the young woman has felt more and more that she does not wish to delve into the controversies of the North or Westerosi politicking yet again. Arya thrives in her newfound responsibilities and yet Sansa has come to dread them, much preferring the company of her children to addressing the never ending list of complaints from highborn families and smallfolk alike.

How can I explain to a man sworn to the queen that I wish to leave the responsibilities of the north into the capable hands of my sister? Yet if Arya's handling of the Boltons doesn't prove how little Dany needs me, nothing will. Ever mindful of Ser Jorah's position, Sansa chooses her words carefully.

"I will do what the queen requires. She desires us to rule along jointly as Wardens of the North, though recent events have proven Arya really doesn't need me to to serve with her; in fact, she is far more suited to this life than I am." Sansa sighs wearily, wavering on her feet as she does so.

"Are you tired, my lady? Let us get you back to your quarters at once."

"I am, Ser Jorah, but not in the way you speak. May I confide in you?"

Eagerly he agrees.

Sansa smiles softly. "I do not wish to appear ungrateful, for the queen has been extremely generous…" She trails off as she gathers her thoughts. "I fear I have outgrown this life."

"Aye, I understand, my lady, more than you know. Please, unburden yourself."

"It is just that, well, I have had enough, Ser Jorah. The queen has been incredibly kind and openhanded and my devotion to her is unwavering…but after all that I have experienced, I just no longer have the stomach to be a part of that world."

"I felt similarly for my father," Ser Jorah offers. "Not everyone is cut out for such a life. I wasn't then."

Sansa wrings her hands. "I am so very tired of it all. For so long I was used as a pawn by Joffrey, Cersei, Petyr Baelish…even beyond the Wall, Stannis Baratheon saw me as a means to secure alliances. I feared I would never escape it. After I married Sandor and we were sent away, I felt free-liberated, even. I had not known such peace since my childhood here. It was the two of us in that tiny cabin in the Vale…we had next to nothing in the way of material possessions but we were so very happy and that was everything."

"And you are unhappy now?"

"It's not that. I am not such a child that I believe everything needs to be to my liking. I just do not want to get embroiled in the drama and controversies that rulership inevitably brings with it. Forgive me, but despite the queen's best intentions, there will always be complications. I, for one, do not want to expose my children to it. The cost is too great."

Ser Jorah nods. "Does your husband know you feel this way?"

Tearfully Sansa whispers, "Yes."

Ser Jorah pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and places it in Sansa's hands. "And what says Lord Clegane?"

A small laugh escapes her lips. "Sandor always says the same thing: 'You just say the word, little bird, and I'll steal you away from here.'"

"Then he's a good husband, though I'm certain if I told him I thought so, I would be summarily cursed out and given a black eye."

Wiping her eyes, Sansa shakily agrees.

"I will not break your confidence, but please believe me when I say the queen will understand if you decide to tell her your true feelings, Lady Sansa."

"Oh, but it would be so ungrateful of me to just leave her to her own devices with my sister and brother-"

"No, my lady, listen: you do Danaerys a great disservice by believing her to be incapable of empathy towards your situation. She restored Winterfell because Jon is her family and the joy it would bring you and your siblings. It was for no other reason."

Biting her lip, Sansa feels thoroughly chastened, and so remains silent.

"I know what you are thinking, my lady. She is a Targaryen, aye, but she understands what it is to live a simpler lifestyle, to be hidden away from the politics of Westeros. Many times during her conquests, she confided to me and Ser Barristan that she missed the days of her and Drogo riding on the Great Grass Sea with the Dothraki khalisar. She knows what it is to have finally found love and family and then lose it all."

"You love her, and not just as a queen," the words slip from Sansa's lips. "Oh, forgive me, it must be the milk of the poppy still, I-"

Ser Jorah laughs heartily. "The milk of the poppy has weakened your tongue, my lady, but you speak the truth nonetheless. I cannot fault you for that."

"Does Danaerys know?"

"Aye, she does. She loves me too, but Danaerys wants a child, and your brother is her best chance at carrying on the family name."

"I see." Sansa soothingly rests her hand on his shoulder. Winterfell was rife with rumors about the queen's barren state, that her brother was the only man with whom she could possibly bear a child. Sadly, Sansa has long suspected that her brother does not truly love the queen either, and though it is clear Jon cares for her, Sansa believes that given her state, he feels obligated to do what he can for the queen. "It seems none of us are meant to be truly happy, doesn't it?"

"If anyone has a chance at it, my lady, it is you. You and Clegane have two beautiful children and money can't buy the sentiment in his eyes when he looks at you."

Blushing, Sansa giggles softly. "No one in King's Landing would have believed the Hound capable of such endearment."

"Aye true enough. No one hands us our happiness, my lady; you must take it," he adds as he leads her into her rooms. "Don't let it slip past you. The queen just received this today," Ser Jorah places a small rolled parchment in her palm. "She thought you would like to read it. It is from your husband."

"Oh, thank you!" Sansa presses the cherished note to her chest and impulsively kisses the knight on the cheek, then blushes and shrinks back. "Forgive me, Ser Jorah, in my excitement I have forgotten myself yet again-"

Roaring out a long hoot, he shakes his head. "Think nothing of it, my lady." Ser Jorah calls out, still laughing as he closes the door, leaving Sansa alone with Sandor's message.

When she married Sandor, Sansa understood at some point necessity would require their separation, for she had been raised to accept such is the burden of all women. Still, when that day had arrived, Sansa discovered she was ill-prepared for the empty void of Sandor's absence. Despite her heartache, Sansa devotedly set about learning the responsibilities of Warden in the North while caring for their children.

After weeks of overhearing Danaerys telling tales with the Free folk women, Sansa realizes she has been reserved with Sandor when it came to the marriage bed. When she confided to the young queen that she wanted to change but did not know how, Danaerys gently told her that after her experiences with Joffrey and Petyr Baelish that such was to be expected and to give it time.

"Has your husband complained?" The queen asked quietly.

"No, it is me who sees the need to change." Sansa whispered, her cheeks flushing hotly as she spoke. "I don't want to allow the past to affect my relationship with him anymore."

Danaerys had comforted her, holding her in her arms. "Then just do what you feel-don't think on it, just let your desires lead you. Do you understand what I mean?"

Blushing, she nodded. "I do, it is the way Sandor does."

The young queen smiled. "It is the fortunate woman who has such a man."

From that day onward, Sansa did her best to listen and learn, and by the time Ser Jorah had given her Sandor's note, Sansa has a clear idea how she wants their reunion to take place. After reverently running her fingers over the seal of three dogs on a yellow field, Sansa eagerly tears open the letter Sandor sent to the queen, who had discreetly rerolled it before giving it to Jorah. The sight of his coarse handwriting brings a smile to her face, for Sandor's blunt speech is evident even in the written word.

Queen Danaerys Targaryen,

House Bolton is no longer. All members caught and executed. The Dreadfort sacked, burned to the ground by dragon fire at the behest of Prince Jon Snow.

One hundred Unsullied and Free folk men lost in the fighting; another fifty recovering well. All members of the Houses of Targaryen, Baratheon and Stark, including the beasts, alive and well. The sortie is on the move; we shall make Winterfell in a fortnight hence.

Sandor Clegane (lord)

House Stark

Enclosed is a private note for Lady Sansa Clegane if you would be so good to give it to her.

"Thank the old gods!" Sansa exclaims aloud, clutching the note to her chest before searching the roll for the private note Sandor included. Frowning, Sansa notices it is tied with a bloody piece of cloth, which she carefully unties. Inside, the letter reads:

Little Bird,

I hope this finds you and the babes well. I'm riding as hard as Stranger will tolerate to get back to you. I secured the note with a piece of your gown, the one you wore the day that shit Ramsay Bolton shot you. You have your justice, wife, and I have mine, for I took his damned head off with your sister's own Valyrian blade. Jon burned their fucking castle to the ground so that's the end of the Boltons. No one will ever hurt you again. I'll keep you and the babes safe, I swear it.

Your husband,

Sandor

Tears of relief flood Sansa's eyes, though she cannot help but wonder if the queen noticed the report he sent her was considerably shorter than the personal note he wrote. I best apologize to her before she mentions it, Sansa decides while feeding the babies before settling them down for their afternoon nap. A soft knock at the door stirs her from her thoughts; it is Daenerys and Missandei. "We have come to assist you with the babes, my lady, if that is agreeable to you." Missandei smiles brightly.

"Of course, please, my queen, do come in," Sansa steps aside and admits the women with Catya still attached at her breast. "Forgive me; my lady mother would scold me fiercely if she knew I opened the door in such a state."

Both women giggle knowingly. Though she prefers doing it herself, Sansa allows them to tend Catya and Edric, knowing that neither Dany nor Missandei, who wed Grey Worm just before he left for the Dreadfort, will likely have children of their own.

Their situations make Sansa rather melancholy, for both women dearly love children and spend many hours in the courtyard learning their games and braiding their hair into various Dothraki styles. It pleases Sansa that the queen is not discriminating in her affections; indeed, the young woman is just as affectionate with the many Free folk children scurrying about the castle as she is with Catya and Edric.

"My queen, I have prepared a report outlining the customs, controversies and needs of the various regions of the North, including the villages beyond the Wall. There have also been many new houses added since the wars, and I have provided you with an updated registry as well."

Osha, having slipped in behind the queen and her handmaiden, settles herself in the adjoining chambers. Sansa is well aware that she is wary of the queen and her handmaiden, for the former spearwife mindfully listens to their conversations and has taken to following Sansa everywhere, guarding her with the same dogged devotion that she shows Rickon and Bran. "Milady, I seen you brought your handmaiden and came ta teach her the Old Tongue, just as you said."

"Very good, Osha," Dany waves Missandei into the adjoining parlor. "You should come to the capital, dearest Sansa," Daenerys comments after Osha leaves the room. "I would very much like for you to visit. Jon means to return with me when I leave the north."

The very idea causes Sansa to inadvertently clench her jaw. "My queen is very kind but if it pleases you, I would much rather stay here. My people need me-my family needs me."

"Your negotiating skills and intimate experiences living in the capital, the Vale, the North and beyond the Wall is unprecedented in the Seven kingdoms."

"You are too kind, my queen."

"It is not kindness, dearest Sansa, it is a simple fact. You were witness to many of the worst conflicts the Seven kingdoms have ever faced." Resting her hand on Sansa's arm, she quietly adds, "Arya is more than capable of handling Winterfell and the affairs of the north on her own. Your brother needs you-I need you."

"Lady Arya is a fine one, make no mistake, but she ain't ready to handle all that needs doing here on 'er own." Osha bursts into the room. "Lady Sansa is needed here by her family."

Ignoring Osha's outburst, Dany asks quietly. "What is it, Sansa? Are you afraid your husband will not agree to go?"

Chuckling softly, Sansa shakes her head. "No; quite the opposite, my queen: Sandor Clegane would follow me to the ends of the earth if I so desired to travel there. He made the trip north of the Wall not once but twice solely for the chance to speak with me. He would go anywhere I choose."

Nervously Sansa watches Daenerys' violet eyes glitter as she regards her. "There are very few men about which such a claim can be made. If not for your husband, then what prevents your accepting my offer?"

"I mean no offense, my queen. Please, I ask leave to speak freely to properly explain."

Dany assents with a tip of the head.

"It is my wish to never return to the Red Keep, for it holds far too many unpleasant memories for both Sandor and me. I lost my childhood there. I lost my father and my friends…please do not ask me to live there." Behind her Osha lets out a satisfied snort.

Sighing, Danaerys stares levelly at her. "It is too soon, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"I understand, Sansa." The queen's voice begins quivering, "I am certain I could never return to the plains where my husband died, or where I gave birth to my son."

Gently Sansa embraces the queen. Steeling herself, Dany soon pulls away, wiping her eyes as she does so. "We could use correspondence as a means of council instead," Dany begins, determinedly pacing the room. "And perhaps we could meet halfway at Riverrun, say, three times a year, for a more lengthy session, or as many as need be. Beyond that, your time would be your own. What say you?"

Pressing her lips together, Sansa slowly nods. "That is most generous of you, my queen. Forgive me, this is but a small detail, but Riverrun is not halfway from here."

Danaerys smiles broadly and places her hands on Sansa's shoulders. "No, but Riverrun is halfway between King's Landing and your keep, my lady."

"My keep? But I have no keep-you are mistaken-"

"Not long after your engagement to Joffrey, your Father had a small keep commissioned for you in the Vale," Dany explains, "it was completed soon after his death."

Disbelief washes over Sansa, clouding her thoughts. First Bran reveals to her that Father and Lady watch over her and now this? "Forgive me, but I have travelled extensively through the Vale and know of no such place."

Dany laughs, her voice melodiously echoing in the small granite chambers. "I have no doubt of that. At the request of your father, Howland Reed has used his gifts to keep its location hidden much in the same manner as Greywater Watch. Once you take possession of it, however, it will be openly revealed."

A keep of my own in the Vale? A lord commissioning a keep for his daughter was unheard of in Westeros and yet Sansa saw no deception in the queen. Overwhelmed, Sansa labored to speak. "Where is it?"

"I cannot say, nor can Jon. In fact, only your brother Brandon knows exactly where it is located, and he has promised Jon that, should the day come that you decide to leave Winterfell, he would gladly lead you and Sandor to it. I cannot say what condition you will find the place in, but if you so desire, you may leave Winterfell with my blessing."

Incredulous, Sansa sinks down on the divan and rubs her head. "This is wholly unbelievable…Father built a keep for me? I was to be queen and King Robert was his friend! Father had no way of knowing his son would turn out to be a monster or he would never have agreed to the betrothal. Whatever made Father decide to do such a thing?"

"Well, no one can say for certain, dear Sansa, but I think I have an idea." Danaerys deliberately sits beside her and takes Sansa's hands in her own. "Your father most likely believed that if his sister Lyanna had a measure of her own free will and a place of her own that things might have turned out very differently for her-and for the Seven kingdoms. Lord Eddard wanted to give you what he could not give his sister-a way out. And I would not deny you that, no matter the cost."

"Thank you," Sansa manages to sob out, her happy tears rendering her attempts at coherent speech impossible. "I cannot thank you enough for everything, my queen."

Dany smiles at her tenderly. "What I have returned to your family was already yours by right, and whether or not we became family, Sansa, I would have given the keep to you just the same."

"I-I must go to the godswood at once to thank the old gods for everything!" Sansa snatches up her cloak.

"Yes, please do," Dany waves her out the door with a smile. "We will stay with the children."

Not long after Sansa leaves, a loud knock resounds in the chamber: it is Ser Jorah.

"We were just staying with the babes until Lady Sansa returns from the godswood," Missandei begins as she admits him to Sansa's chambers.

"My queen, they have come! The prince, Lady Arya and Lord Clegane have returned!"