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Sansa walked through the grey stone corridor of her ancestral home; the Ironborn fires had thankfully not touched this part of the keep. The morning’s council meeting had been uneventful, which wasn’t a bad thing. As of late Winterfell had been abuzz with activity due to the massive reconstruction underway. The people of the North, her family’s people, had come out in droves. The wolves are back.
As she made her way back to her solar, she brushed her hand against the stone wall; feeling the heat from the hot springs. She took comfort in the familiarity it brought her, bringing her back to the days when her family was whole. Days when Robb carried her through the snows of the Godswood on his back or the nights her Lady mother would brush her hair until it shone like burnished copper. Those memories came flooding back but Sansa’s tears had long since been shed for those days.
Sansa rounded the corner to her solar and saw that the door was ajar. As she approached she knew only one other person who could be in her quarters. She heard that familiar rasp of her Lord husband, not that she’d ever dare address him as such except in jest. Sansa stood in the doorway to take in the sight before her. On the floor sat Sandor with their daughter, who had just passed her first name day, in front on him on her bottom. Her blue eyes, much like Sansa’s own, were intensely focused on her Papa.
“Now Catya, this is a wolf.” Sandor said as he showed her the stuffed wolf she was gifted by Rickon.
“Can you say ‘wolf’ little one?” He asked the perplexed Catya.
“Woof!” Catya shouted with a proud toothy smile.
“Almost my girl! Woof is the noise a dog makes, like your Papa.”
“Woof!” Catya screeched again accompanied by some giggles.
“Yes woof!” Sandor barked as he lifted the girl into the air. Catya’s black curls bounced as she was maneuvered up and down, laughing unbidden all the while.
Sandor continued barking as he spun their daughter around the solar. Sansa stepped into the room and Sandor stopped in his tracks and quickly moved towards her with Catya in his arms.
“Hello my little bird,” he greeted as he leaned down to give her a kiss.
“Hello my loves,” Sansa chuckled as she returned his kiss and kissed her precious girl.
“I was just trying to get Catya to say ‘wolf’”
“WOOF!” Catya beamed, eager to show her mother the new word in her vocabulary.
Sansa and Sandor both laughed as they watched their daughter throw her head back and give another loud “WOOF!”
“She really does take after her Papa!” Sansa smiled.
“Aye, but with the beauty and grace of her mother,” Sandor replied as he pulled Sansa into his free arm. Sansa felt a new strong warmth against her now, the familiarity and peace that Sandor brought her. Much like the walls of Winterfell. Sandor provided Sansa with everything that she had feared she’d never feel again. She snuggled further into his jerkin, relishing in his scent.
“My two lovely girls. I don’t know what I did to deserve to be surrounded by such ladies.” She felt, rather than heard him grumble.
Sansa lifted her eyes to meet those of her husband’s; she had learned long ago that Sandor’s eyes displayed all that he felt. She could read the total love and sincerity of his statement from his grey depths. The grey so like that of the North. The skies before a snow storm. The pools of the hot springs. Winterfell.
Abruptly Catya’s little fists pulled on both Sansa’s and Sandor’s hair, painfully bringing the attention back to her.
“Ouch!” Sandor and Sansa groaned.
“WOOF! WOOF!” Catya shouted. The three of them erupted into full blown laughter yet again.
Yes, Sansa thought, we shall fill these walls with new memories.