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She was the Queen now. Queen of the North.

Brienne of Tarth had found her in the Vale and taken her away before her marriage to Harry the Heir. The woman-knight had killed Petyr Baelish, but not before he had looked into Sansa Stark's eyes one last time. After that they had fled, making their way to wherever Brienne planned on taking her. Sansa had been afraid of the large woman at first, believing her to be just another person taking her to a brand new cage. But Brienne had proved herself countless times. Defending Sansa from enemies, men and women alike, spreading the word that there was one last Stark left alive in Westeros, and bringing her home.

Sansa had never felt so relieved as she had when she first saw Winterfell again. Despite it being a ruin of what it once was, it was still home and Sansa knew that it could be restored.

And adding to her relief and wonder was all of the envoys sent from various houses declaring fealty to Sansa Stark, Queen of the North.

Sansa had then met Daenerys Targaryen, the Dragon Queen, and submit fealty to her. Sansa wanted no more wars, no more cause for bloodshed, and the Queen had showed her gratitude. Helping to restore Winterfell, gathering even more men (and more importantly, swords) and the greatest help of all, helping the Brothers of the Nights Watch defeat the dreaded Others and eradicate them all.

Stannis Baratheon had given up his rights to the Iron Throne, knowing that with the power of the North Daenerys would overcome him in battle as surely as they had overcome the Others. After him Daenerys had faced no opposition.

She had spared Myrcella and Tommen, allowing them to live despite being the product of incest. However they were made to swear fealty to her as their Queen. Casterly Rock was in the hands of Jaime Lannister (who had been pardoned by many words from Brienne and Sansa both) and was a follower of the Queen. His loyalty had been secured by his brother above all, who had vouched to the Dragon Queen on his brothers behalf alongside Brienne and Sansa.

It was still hard for her to believe; a month ago she was fighting for her life and struggling to maintain control over what little she had and now she was sitting in her restored home Winterfell as ruler. Men bowed to her, she wore fine silks and furs again, she had servants. She had an army.

She had gone from being Sansa Stark, daughter of Catelyn and Eddard Stark, to Alayne Stone, bastard daughter of Petyr Baelish. You can't go from being one person to another without bringing parts of the person you were before along with you, something that Sansa learned well. So it was only to be expected that somedays Sansa found herself slipping back into Alayne.

But she was no longer a baseborn child. She was the ruler of Winterfell and of the North and Sansa was no longer someone who cowered in face of her fears. She had no cause to fear; not anymore.

And she had her family back.

At hearing word of the eldest Stark daughter reclaiming the Winter Castle for herself and her people, Arya had made her way back home to see if it was true. Finding Sansa sitting on a throne in the place where their Lord Father had once sat himself had brought tears to Arya's eyes despite her thinking she had no tears left to give.

Rickon had made his way back, alonside Shaggydog and Osha. He had hardly remembered his sisters but had grown to love them once more after being taken in amidst hugs and kisses. He was wild, of that there was no argument, but he was also a Stark; and Starks stuck together. They defended the pack.

Bran's whereabouts had been learned of but the eldest brother had not returned from beyond the Wall. Sansa dreamed of him sometimes, strange dreams which usually involved a crow with 3 eyes but reassured her nonetheless. Bran was always sitting with his eyes closed in her dreams, but when he spoke it was still him. He assured her that he was fine, just learning, and Sansa never sent anyone out to search for him because she knew he would come when he wanted.

Jon was Lord Commander of the Wall, one of the best the Wall had seen. Daenerys found new recruits and sent them North once a month and Jon wrote to Sansa telling her that the Wall was better defended than it had been in years. He spoke of many things but the most recurring topic was how much he missed Arya, Rickon, Bran and herself. He made her promise, in one of her letters, that she would visit him on the Wall someday in the future, making sure to bring her siblings with her.

Sansa was content but she was not happy. Everyday she was pressured to marry, everyday new suitors arrived.

And every day Sansa rejected them.

It was today, a day in the early weeks of Spring, that Sansa heard his name spoken aloud for the first time in years.

"Your Grace, there was a disturbance in the town today," Ser Darren, one of her more trusted guards, told her.

She looked up from the letter she had been reading on her throne. It was from Jon, asking her to send new recruits to the Night's Watch soon if she had any men she needed to be rid of.

"Hmm?" She asked the balding man who was in his late forties.

He shifted his stance before answering. "There was a sighting of a man riding through the town, Your Grace."

Sansa frowned, confused. "And why should that concern me or any others, Ser Darren?"

The knight looked down before answering. "My Queen, the man was said to be in possesion of a snarling dogs helm. The very helm that used to be owned by Sandor Clegane."

The words caused Sansa to draw a breath, freezing in place.

She spoke her next words without thinking. "Sandor Clegane is dead."

Ser Darren bowed his head, acknowledging her words. "Your Grace, a body was never recovered so we cannot be sure. But I doubt the man is The Hound, he was said to be of average size and height and from what I have heard Sandor Clegane was very tall."

She released the breath she had been holding but could not ignore the way her stomach twisted at the news.

"Bring this man to me," she commanded. "I will judge for myself if he is Sandor Clegane, for I know the man from long ago. Bring this unknown man to me, Ser Darren, and make sure he is in fact the right man."

oooOOOooo

It was not him.

The boy- because that was really all he was at the age of seven and ten- was no ferocious warrior. Sansa had forgotten his name as soon as he had spoken it and could not bear to look at him or the helm at his feet.

He said he had aquired the helm while out riding, finding it forgotten and rusting in the woods. He had restored it, he told her and everyone in the room, and had not known the history behind it. He begged not to be punished, saying he would never wear it again if it was what his Queen desired, but Sansa hardly heard him.

This was not Sandor Clegane and Sansa was crestfallen because of it.

She had not forgotten the man who had helped her in King's Landing. Had not forgotten the way he warned her and frightened her.

Sansa had not forgotten his attempt to save her from King's Landing, had not forgotten the way he had stank of blood, sweat, death and wine.

She had not forgotten a cloak stashed at the bottom of a trunk, nor a stolen kiss and threat of rape. Foolish girl that she'd been she hadn't realized what it was at the time, innocently believing he had actually wanted a song from her.

She had not forgotten all that he had done to her; she had also not forgotten all he had done for her.

And now that his helm was in front of her the memories came rushing back. Forgotten fears that only came to her in dreams, wildfire glowing in the night, beatings that bruised her for days. A man who she missed despite how wrong it was.

She finally looked at the boys face. He was pale, had blonde hair that went down to his ears, and blue eyes. He was not who she wanted.

"You may go," she told him, "but leave the helm. It is now mine."

When the guards had escorted him out Arya turned to her from where she stood beside the throne. "Why didn't you let him take the stupid helmet? You saw how much he wanted it."

Sansa looked down at the metal replica of a snarling dog. "He was not the helms rightful owner."

Arya snorted. "The helms owner is dead, and good riddance," she said bitterly.

Sansa ignored her and turned to look at the guards. "I have a request."

Ser Darren stepped forwards and knelt before her. "Yes, Your Grace."

Sansa looked down at the helm once again. She had to be sure. "Find me Sandor Clegane," she said. "Find him and bring him here, to me. If he is alive I want him here and if he is dead I would like somebody to bring me someone who saw his death with their own eyes. I will not believe lies or fabricated tales. Bring me Sandor Clegane, and if you cannot do that, bring me the person who killed him."

Stunned eyes met her request and the first to break the silence was Arya. "Sansa," she said and her tone was angry, "I left the bastard there to rot and die. We were alone, there's no way someone would have found him and saved him. No one except the gods saw him die."

Sansa met her sisters eyes evenly, not flinching from the furious gaze in them. "I have heard this Arya, you told me upon your return. However, I would like to know for sure and true what happened to the man who kidnapped my baby sister."

The man who kept both of us safe, she added silently in her head.

Arya spat on the ground at her feet. There were outraged cries from the guards but Sansa held up a hand to silence them. "If I ever catch sight of him again I'll kill him. I didn't do it before but I wouldn't hesitate to do it now."

Arya's words disappeared almost as fast as she did as she spun around to make her way out of the Great Hall. Walking in her men's clothes, sword hung at her side, she strode out of the hall without a backwards glance.

Sansa turned to look at the men before her. "You have my orders," she said calmly. "Now go."

And with many bowed heads and mutters of, "yes Your Grace," Sansa was left alone with nothing but her memories.

oooOOOooo

He had not come willingly.

She could see the blood trickling down from his left temple, the signs of a struggle where he had been hit. His arms were bound behind him and his wrists were raw and red from his struggling. His eyes were furious and once they caught sight of her he started struggling once again.

Ser Darren and a few others pushed him out in front of her, forcing him to his knees before her.

Sandor Clegane did not want to be here.

Sansa wondered, after the shock of his presence wore off, whether it was because of her.

She could understand if it was. For some unexplainable reason she was nervous to see him as well.

He was almost exactly as she remembered. His face had not changed, his hair the same apart from a few more gray hairs mixed in with the black. He was still as tall and broad as he had been before, and although she had seen him walk with a slight limp, he was obviously still as physically capacble as before.

What had changed were his eyes.

No longer consumed with pure hatred, Sansa noticed the difference the moment she saw him. The Queen wondered if maybe the Mother had heeded her prayers, gentling Sandor Clegane to the best of her ability.

But he was angry. She could see it in his eyes and the tense set of his shoulders. He seemed to want to look away from her but couldn't bring himself to do so. Sansa couldn't look away from him either, in her frozen sense of shock.

"You're here." She whispered finally, managing to move her tongue and lips. Her voice did not seem to want to co-operate and her mind could not form something else to say. She had not wanted to say that, she had planned to greet him with a smile and inquire as to where he had been.

She had not expected this frozeness. Making her immobile, not being able to even think clearly. Her mout went dry at the sight of him and her heart beat frantically in her chest.

His laugh was as rough as ever, but was it Sansa's imagination or did it shake slightly? "Aye, Little Bird, your men kidnapped me just as you ordered."

Sansa frowned at his words and the bitterness that filled them. Before she could say anything however, Ser Arkold stepped forward with his hand raised threateningly. "Address that lady as your queen, dog."

Sandor raised his remaining eyebrow at the man before turning to look at Sansa once again. He ran his eyes over his figure and she noticed some men tensed at his act. "Aye, that's right. You're a Queen now." Sandor turned his head and spit to the side. "Well you know how I feel about queen's, Little Bird."

No. She knew how he felt about knights, and heroes. Damsels in distress and song. She knew how he felt about kings but never once had Sansa heard The Hound's opinion of Queen's.

Ridiculously she hoped he would think kindly of her. She wanted him to think well of her. Sansa was no Cersei Lannister and she hoped the Hound recognized that.

This time it was Ser Darren who stepped towards the kneeling man, fist raised. "Your Grace-"

She shook her head before he finished speaking. "It is alright Ser Darren, he may address me as he likes."

Jaws dropped at her proclamation and she saw the Hound's eyes widen a fraction of an inch before he narrowed them. She ignored all of this however, choosing instead to make anothe request.

"Leave us."

More jaws dropped and eyes flickered uncertainly. Ser Darren took another step, this time towards her. "Your Grace, this man-"

"I am aware of who this man is and what he is capable of Ser Darren. Do not presume that I do not know what this man has done in the past." Her voice shook but it was very slight and she thinks the Hound is the only one who notices by the way his eyes flick up to meet hers.

He barks out a laugh and his words are as harsh as ever, "Little Bird you don't know half of what I've done."

Sansa did not reply, instead looking at her bannermen and servants. "Leave us."

They left slowly, but they did leave. Ser Darren was the last to go, shooting a worried glance towards the Hound once more before meeting his ladies eyes. She nodded, to show she would be fine, and he turned to go. When the door shut behind him Sansa wasted no time in getting up and walking towards this man who had featured so often in her dreams.

She moved to help him up but he jerked away from her touch as if she was fire itself. She could not pretend the rebuttal did not hurt and stopped moving to watch him instead.

He looked to the ground before meeting her eyes again, this time speaking through ground teeth. "Why did you bring me here?"

She didn't know the answer to that, not yet, so she chose to answer with a question of her own. "Where did you go?"

He studied her, obviously not fooled by her evasive maneuver but didn't comment on it. Instead, surprisingly, he answered her. "The Quiet Isle. I was a... Holy Brother."

She could not stop the slight widening of her eyes or the surprise that crossed her features. "I- I would not have thought you would choose the road of the Faith."

His laugh was slightly gentler this time, more humorous, and when he met her eyes again there was a sparkle in his grey ones. "Nor did I, Little Bird, but wars change people."

She felt the impact of his words all too well and wondered if they were purposely meant to rankle her. If so, he had succeeded. She knew all too well what a war could do to people, she had suffered as much as any other due to the War of Five Kings. Losing her family, changing her name, her very self, doing everything she could to survive, learning how the game was played... she did it all and more.

She changed the subject again, this time her voice came as nothing more than a whisper, "I thought you dead."

She would not say any more, would not tell him how she cried the night the news reached her. Would not say she regretted not going with him all those years ago the night Blackwater burned. She would not expose herself to him like that; he would probably just mock her for it anyway.

She saw him take in her words and think for a moment before replying to her. "I thought the same of you."

He was talking about him thinking she was dead but Sansa felt pain go through her at the hope that maybe he meant more. Maybe he knew how she had thought of him all those years, of the kiss he had taken and the cloak he had left and the words he had spoken. Maybe he had missed her like she had missed him, thinking the same of her as she did him.

But no. He was merely commenting on how he had thought her dead, nothing more.

"Do you know what happened to me?" She asked him, almost hesitant to hear the answer. She didn't know why she asked him that, as it wasn't common knowledge that she had been in the grips of Littlefinger after King's Landing. People were inclined to believe she had just remained unnoticed and unseen after escaping from King's Landing until she found someone to take her home. They thought she killed King Joffrey and then ran.

Sansa did nothing to discourage those rumors.

But the man in front of her bristled at her question and when he spoke his voice was even more harsh than before. "You married the Imp."

There was a tone in his voice that Sansa didn't recognize and certainly didn't understand. Regret maybe?

"I did," she confirmed and she would swear later she saw him flinch at her words, "but I was forced to, I did not enter the marriage willingly."

He snorted and closed his eyes for a moment. "I bet he entered you willingly enough in your bedchambers."

She winced at his vulgar words. "I am still a maiden, Ser."

She forgot how much he hated being called a Ser until he opened his eyes and saw the anger there once again. "Don't call me a Ser, Little Bird. We both know I'm no Ser."

She was about to reply, to say something along the lines of 'you are the truest person I have ever known' or 'you would have been a true knight' but he spoke again before she could speak the words.

"And don't lie to me," he added sounding even more angry than before. "I know how marriage works even if I've never done it myself."

She sighed, giving up on convincing him at the moment and stood straight. "Will you get up please? It feel wrong to have to look down at you instead of up."

He snorted. "It's not my place to stand before royalty when I'm a prisoner, Your Grace."

He said the title mockingly and Sansa frowned. "I'd forgotten how cruel you could be."

She was no longer a scared girl who would cower and hide and she did not hide what was on her mind if not necessary. There was once a time she would barely have been able to speak those words in fear for what he would do to her but now she spoke them as if commenting on the weather.

And she suspected the change had nothing to do with the fact that his wrists were bound and he was kneeling before her.

"You didn't forget," he told her, "I'm willing to bet you just forced it out of your mind."

She did not know what to make of his words so she said nothing. He broke the silence that descended upon them.

"You can look at me now."

Sansa didn't know why, but those words felt much more intimate and personal than they should have. They touched her like nothing he had yet said did and she stared into his eyes, trying to see what he was thinking.

His gaze back was curious, maybe slightly surprised, and something else. Something she couldn't put a name to.

"I have seen much worse things than a scarred face my lord," she said. "Besides, the worst of you is gone now."

He drew back as if she had moved to strike him. "What do you mean by that?"

She stared at him curiously. "Your eyes-"

"What about them?" He growled.

She paused. "They're not as angry as they were. It- they were what scared me most about you. So full of hate and anger, they made me scared."

He regarded her cautiously. "You're saying my eyes scared you more than my ruin of a face?"

She nodded slowly, warily. "You were so sad. I didn't like having to see it."

He stared at her a moment before shaking his head. "You're mad."

Maybe it was because Sansa had feared it herself, or maybe it was because so many people had whispered it behind her back before that Sansa took those words to heart and had to blink twice to make sure no tears appeared at them.

Or maybe it was because the words came from Sandor Clegane.

She was silent a moment and when she spoke her voice was harder than before. "That may be so. However I am still Queen and you should respect me as such."

"I don't give respect due to titles, Your Grace, I give respect due to the person who wears them."

"And me?" She asked before she could stop herself. "Do I earn your respect?"

He met her eyes for a few moments before glancing away. "Aye, that you do, Little Bird."

The words shouldn't have made her so happy or send a flutter through her stomach but they did. She searched for something else to say before she noticed him twisting his hands in the ropes that bound them.

"Why are you bound?" She asked.

He snorted. "Your men come across a man piss drunk and realize he's The Hound and you don't think they would bound me?"

"I ordered you not to be harmed unless you fought against my men escorting you." She told him, hoping he believed her.

"Don't go getting mad at them, woman, I did put up a fight." He muttered something under his breath that Sansa couldn't hear and she was not sure she wanted to so she made sure not to ask.

"Why did you fight?"

He froze for a second before changing the subject, struggling to get up as he did so. "Is there anything decent to eat around here? Even prisoners get the right to fill their stomachs."

Sansa did not catch the subject change and frowned at his words. "You are not a prisoner."

He snorted. "Unwilling capture is kidnapping Little Bird, and keeping a person against their wish is imprisoning them. Don't fool yourself into believing otherwise."

"Do you really wish to get away from me so much?" She asked him desperately, not even knowing the words came out of her mouth before they were gone into the air.

He stopped moving for a second before struggling again. "A dog should not be caged."

"Nor should a bird," she spoke the words quietly but by the way he tensed she knew he heard.

"Aye," he finally said after a few moments. "Now, if it is no trouble to Your Grace, could you please untie these bloody ropes?"

She hesitated before nodding and moved to stand behind him. Carefully and deftly she pulled the rough ropes until they fell to the ground in a pile. She dared to even brush her hand against one of his own after they did, before finally moving away from him.

He had tensed at the contact and eyed her but she avoided his gaze and he slowly stood up. Again she noticed he favoured his right leg.

She wondered what had happened to his left one, but resolved to ask him later. Now, as he walked slightly behind her towering over her, she was content to enjoy his company.

However unwilling it may be.

oooOOOooo

He came for her at night, as she knew he would.

It was why she had not barred the door this night as she did every other and it was why she had assured her guards that they had no need to stand outside her chambers tonight.

She lay in bed staring at the ceiling when she heard the door open slowly. She saw a hulking shadow and when she turned her head slightly and exposed an ear to the air, she heard the sound of mail.

He was going to leave again, she thought, not wanting to let herself feel the extent of sadnesss that this news brought her. But why had he come here?

He barred the door and when he turned his face was suddenly cast in the light of the moon. His scars, no less horrible, were still the same as ever and Sansa saw the bit of bone that was visible in his jar. He had donned every piece of mail and Sansa saw him pick that stupid, stupid dog's helm from the desk beside her bed.

She wondered if he would try to wake her up not knowing she was already awake, or if he would just leave.

He did none of those.

He spoke to her as he set down the helm again.

"No need to pretend, Little Bird, I see you watching me."

A blush stupidly made it's way on her cheeks, giving her away, and she felt rather than saw his eyes change at the sight of it.

"This is not proper." She told him.

"Which part?" He snarled at her. "Me making my way to my Queen's chambers in the middle of the night drunk or you bringing me here for seemingly no reason at all?"

She swallowed and tried to ignore the small bit of fear that filled her at his words. "Why are you here?"

He went to lean over her and she smelled the wine on him. It was not as strong as it usually was, and Sansa wondered offhandly if he had been made to give up drinking while on the Quiet Isle, but it was still there.

"Why do you think I'm here?"

She looked up and saw the shine of his eyes in the night's darkness. "You won't hurt me."

He tensed a moment before relaxing again. "Aye, Little Bird, and why do you think that is?"

She shook her head. "I would like to think it is because you care about me."

He sighed. "Care about you? Like that fool Florian with his cunt?"

She did not answer him and he seemed to relent because he leaned back to sit on her bed. "You never did sing me that song."

She did not know whether he meant the song he wanted that night or the song of Florian and Jonquil, so she answered for both. "You did not make me."

He didn't answer her so she asked something she had been afraid to ask in daylight. "Why didn't you take me with you?"

He was quiet for so long that Sansa thought he may not answer. Finally though, he drew in a breath and spoke. "You were scared of me."

"I was," she admitted, "but I'm not anymore."

"And why's that, Little Bird?" His voice was a rough growl but there was a touch of curiosity in it as well, "I haven't changed."

"No," she agreed, "but I have."

He took in a breath so she leaned forward. He spoke before she could though. "It matters none now, I doubt you'd want to be taken from your pretty little castle, you title and all those blasted suitors who pine at your door."

She wondered if the note in his voice was jealousy. She hoped so. "Will you stay here?"

"Here? What is there for me here? If I stay here my balls will freeze off and I won't even notice."

She sighed, and avoided the question, suddenly scared to answer him. "Must you be so vulgar?"

"You knew who I was when you brought me here, Little Bird, don't pretend otherwise."

She was quiet a long time before she spoke. "Why didn't you take me that night?"

She knew that he noticed the difference of this question. She was not asking why he didn't take her with him, she was asking why he didn't take her.

"Why are you asking me these questions, Little Bird? What good are the answers?" Something in his voice shook and it made Sansa reach out to cup his face.

His skin was the same as ever. Rough but slightly wet, strange to touch and yet Sansa could not find it in herself to move her hand away.

The Hound did that for her though. He jerked his head backwards at her touch like he had just been freshly burned. "What are you doing, woman?"

She couldn't move her toungue to form the words so her silence was deafening. The Hound snarled at her.

"You're no longer an innocent girl, Sansa, you're a woman. You know these things now, you shouldn't be touching any men except your husband."

"I have no husband," she said automatically, realizing that he had said her proper name. She liked the way it sounded coming from him, she realized.

It was true, Tyrion's marriage to her was declared void, but Sandor didn't seem to accept that as an answer.

"You shouldn't tempt a dog, one day it will bite."

Her stomach fluttered at his words and she moved even closer. Gathering her courage she whispered the question that had plagued her ever since Blackwater. "Why did you kiss me?"

This time he visibly tensed and Sansa felt it against her. When he spoke his voice was confused. "Kiss you?"

She nodded, barely. "Yes. Why did you do it?"

"Little Bird I- I may be drunk but I'm not so drunk as to forget that night. I never kissed you, not once in my whole buggering life."

She was floored; she met his eyes and the burning intensity in them made her realize he was telling the truth. She turned her head away, surprised and angry at the tears in her eyes. Embarrasment warred with her anger and Sansa blinked rapidly to try to stop the water droplets from falling.

She had held on to that kiss for so long, had used it as something to keep her strong. She had thought of that kiss many times and dreamed of it countless nights. To hear that it had never happened...

"Why are you lying to me?" She asked quietly. "It was just a question."

Because surely he was lying to her. Or maybe he just didn't remember. He had been very drunk that night, maybe he misremembered.

Or, a little voice in the back of her head said, maybe it's you who doesn't remember properly.

She shook her head and the man before her hesitantly raised a hand to cup her face. He was strangely gentle, the way she remembered he had been when he dabbed away the blood from her split lip.

"Sansa," when he spoke his voice was serious. "I never kissed you. If I had kissed you, I would have done a lot more."

She blushed and he must have felt the heat on her cheeks. Instead of pulling away however he stroked his thumb on one of her cheeks. Then, suddenly and without warning, he dove his face to hers and their lips met.

Sansa'a eyes closed automatically. She felt his lips, rough on one side, smooth on the other, and liked the contrast. The feel of his lips pressed against hers... it was more real than she had ever been able to remember.

Maybe he hadn't been lying. This was so different than the one Sansa remembered...

She found herself kissing him back and wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He deepened the kiss and it was then that Sansa realized that he was a very good kisser and she thoroughly enjoyed his lips against hers.

Finally she pulled away from him, her chest heaving, breath coming heavy. He seemed to be breathing rather erratically himself and Sansa somehow took comfort from the fact that he felt that kiss just as much as she did.

"So, Little Bird? Was that anything like the kiss you remember?"

She shook her head and for a moment saw a flash of emotion in his eyes before she spoke it again.

"It was much, much better," she said shyly with a blush on her face.

That night, for the first time, Sansa Stark saw Sandor Clegane smile.

oooOOOooo

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