The Strength of Her // SansaxSandor (On Hiatus)

Chapter 5

05. Without Banners

There she was again, standing in the courtyard to await whatever came from beyond the East Gate. When Sansa was younger, seeing the gates rise and fall with new arrivals or returning groups of gallant and skilled men was exciting. Sunshine would create spotlights for them as they dismounted their steeds and light snow would land on their shoulders in greeting. It was always something to look forward to.

The activity did nothing but churn her stomach now.

It all gave her flashbacks to when she and her family stood side by side years ago to receive King Robert and his company. How different things were now. Sansa had been anticipating the arrival of the king for weeks because his presence also brought with him his golden-haired son-Prince Joffrey. News of how handsome the prince had been was all Sansa could concentrate on. Very little pulled her attention away from him. It was summer and she was giddy and the gods gave her the betrothal she thought she wanted.

Less than half her family was at her side now in the frozen mud and frigid air. Sansa didn't wish for vi

The heavy grind of the metal gate ascending brought Sansa back to the present. She shook her head slightly to rid herself of wishes and redoes. None of that would help her now. The present was as it was, and she'd have to live with that.

Nothing came out of the threshold at first but harsh winds that doubled as ghostly whispers. Many more than just Jon, Sansa and Bran stood to wait. Guests that should have been drowning in wine were only steps behind their hosts, just as curious as to what could make the Brotherhood travel so far north without proper invitation.

The light sound of horse neighs and ice crystals being crushed under heavy hooves came first-both slow and lazy. Then a figure, two, three, ten stepped through the gate and around the bend to face their awaiting audience. They were a ghastly sight to behold. All were covered in heavy snow, skin different shades of pink from being in the cold too long. Most wore chainmail and wool tunics, wrapped in thick cloaks and furs, but it didn't do much to keep them protected from the newly beginning winter.

Two men singled themselves out from the rest and rode up to stand before Jon, Sansa and the others. The man on the right gave them an almost smile, not sensing that this encounter was uncalled for. His hairline was receding, but

Sansa imagined that his man would have been very handsome some years ago when life had not taken such a heavy toll. In fact, she knew that he had been. She knew these two men, though it felt like a different lifetime, a different her since she had last laid eyes upon them.

"You're Thoros of Myr. And Beric Dondarrion."

Beric Dondarrion smiled at Sansa and bowed, though she couldn't tell just yet if it was heartfelt. "My lady, how you've grown since I saw you last."

Sansa nodded in response, unsure of how to go at making conversation with men she only knew in distant passing. She turned over to Jon. She was as good as any to make the introductions. "The Red Priest, Thoros of Myr and Lord Beric Dondarrion, Lord of Blackhaven. They were in King's Landing for the Hand's tourney."

Thoros laughed, slapping Dondarrion on the arm. Snow flung off his clothing. "Ha! Do you remember that joust? Landed right on your ass!"

"Bastards luck was all. Lord Snow-or should I call you Lord Commander? Or The King in the North? You've faired for yourself quite nicely of late. We've heard plenty of stories about your affairs since your father died."

Jon didn't wish to take part in small talk. "Why have you come this far north, my lord? Why to Winterfell?"

A small smug smile crept across Thoros' face as if to announce without words that he knew something very important that Jon did not. The action was not at all comforting. "You'll be glad we did, Lord Commander Snow of the North. We're granting you a favor and presenting a gift."