Author's notes: This started form a drabble I wanted to write to a Tumblr sansaxoldmenweek prompt while on holiday. Something quick and easy, no sweat, not too long. Well, I started from one prompt, mixed it with another, and before too long I noticed myself going through all 6 prompts and weaving them into a single story.

The prompts were: Waiting, Fascinated, Trusting, Pleased, Breathless and Home. Still; not too long, something simple – and here we go!

Sansa shifted her weight from one leg to another, weary of the long wait standing at the top of the stairs hidden in a narrow recess against the crumbling stone walls. For the hundredth time her mind tried in vain to fathom why she was there - and once again found no answer that would have made any sense.

He thinks me an annoying chirping little girl. He will only growl at me – again.

Her hands were sweaty and she wiped them against her dress. He growled at everyone, he had eyes full of burning rage, he was always surrounded by a waft of dark anger.

Time went on and only a lone cat brushed by her, turning its head to observe her as she stood there, silent and unmoving. Its feline eyes narrowed as it was judging her – and finding her wanting the cat continued its journey into the keep's deep recesses.

How long should I wait? What if he doesn't come?

What if he DOES come?

Finally heavy footsteps approached from down the hall, iron studded boots scraping against stone. Sansa swallowed hard while the loud sound of her own heartbeat thundered inside her chest. Now.

Slow, unsteady steps, one by one, down the stairs. Fear and excitement made her head dizzy. Sudden panic flared in her mind, clinching her with its cold grasp. What am I doing?

"The fuck the little bird roaming here on her own?!"

The words were ugly, his voice raspy and his sneer hideous. A lock of lank dark hair had fallen over his eyes and he tossed his head to better stare down at her, taking his time to let his eyes roam all over her body. He didn't hold it for long though, soon casting his gaze aside with a rare look of uncertainty crossing his face. She had never seen him so and she was glad that it was the man and not the hound that was facing her.

Her mind latched on his words. Only he calls me little bird.

Yet she had no words of her own. Any excuse about being on her way back from the Godswood had evaporated leaving her empty and exposed. She stared at the wide belt wrapped around his waist, the frayed ends of its leather bindings and the cruel looking sword hanging from it. If she would try to lift it, it would defy her and bore her down, but she had seen him swinging it as lightly as she did her needle. His size, his strength and his bad temper should have been enough to warn her from crossing paths with him, but she had waited for him for so long…

"I…" The unformed statement died on her lips forgotten and she could hear and feel more than see the heavy sigh, the impatient heaving of his broad chest and the way his body swayed on the spot.

"Bugger me with my own sword but I can't let you stay here. Back to your cage – and don't make me tell you twice."

The yank at her arm was sharp but his fingers wrapped around it were warm and his grip firm. Sansa followed him meekly, adjusting his pace to his long strides. He didn't loosen his hold on her and when they walked she could smell him; sweat, horses, outdoors. Her skirts touched his side and she shivered as if that innocent touch was a bridge built between her and him.

She felt safe. She felt like she could be in danger.

She felt alive.