The feast had ended.
The hall of Winterfell slowly emptied, laughter fading into quiet echoes, firelight dimming into something softer, more intimate.
But in a smaller chamber—
The real decisions were made.
A single hearth burned low.
Shadows danced across stone walls.
And gathered within—
Eddard Stark.
Catelyn Stark.
Maester Luwin.
Robb Stark.
Arya Stark.
Sansa Stark.
Ser Rodrik Cassel.
And one name—
Not present.
But felt in every word.
Michel Arryn.
Ned stood near the fire.
Silent.
Thinking.
"He has proposed marriage," he said at last.
The words settled into the room.
Catelyn spoke first.
Without hesitation.
"This is a strong match."
Her voice was calm—but certain.
"My daughter would become Lady of the Eyrie."
Her eyes softened slightly.
"And wife to one of the most promising lords in the realm."
Maester Luwin nodded faintly.
"The Vale is strong, my lord."
"Now stronger than it has been in decades."
Ser Rodrik stroked his beard.
"A good alliance," he said simply.
Robb leaned forward slightly.
"It would bind us to the Vale."
"And the Riverlands."
Catelyn's gaze turned to Ned.
"Three regions united."
"The North."
"The Vale."
"The Riverlands."
Her voice lowered slightly.
"That kind of strength cannot be ignored."
Ned listened.
But his eyes moved.
Toward one person.
"Sansa."
She sat straight, hands folded neatly in her lap.
Perfect.
Composed.
Yet her heart—
Beat faster than she could hide.
"What do you think?" Ned asked.
Sansa looked at him.
Then lowered her gaze slightly.
"Father…"
Her voice was soft.
"I will follow what you decide."
A pause.
Before she could say more—
Arya's voice cut in.
"Oh, don't pretend."
Sansa's head snapped up.
"Arya!"
Arya smirked, arms crossed.
"You like him."
A flush rose instantly to Sansa's cheeks.
"I do not!"
Arya grinned.
"You do."
"Be quiet!"
Robb chuckled softly.
Even Maester Luwin allowed the smallest hint of a smile.
But Sansa—
Could not hide it.
Because it was true.
The first time she had seen Michel Arryn—
She had noticed.
His height.
His strength.
The quiet confidence in his movements.
The way people watched him.
Listened to him.
Feared him.
And yet—
When he spoke—
He was calm.
Controlled.
Different.
And when he had looked at her—
Not as a prize.
Not as an ornament.
But as something to be chosen.
Her heart had not been prepared for that.
And now—
He had asked for her hand.
Sansa lowered her gaze again.
But the blush remained.
Ned saw it.
He exhaled slowly.
Then spoke.
"I will accept the proposal."
The words fell like a quiet hammer.
Decisive.
Final.
Catelyn smiled softly.
Robb nodded.
Ser Rodrik gave a firm grunt of approval.
Arya rolled her eyes slightly.
But even she did not protest.
Sansa's breath caught.
Accepted.
Her father had said yes.
A warmth spread through her chest.
Soft.
Bright.
Unfamiliar.
I will become Lady of the Eyrie…
Her fingers tightened slightly in her lap.
Ned continued.
"He has strengthened the Vale."
"Made it prosperous."
"Built power where there was once fragility."
His gaze hardened slightly.
"And this alliance…"
He looked around the room.
"…will bind the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale together."
A pause.
"Three regions."
"Three powers."
"United."
Maester Luwin nodded.
"That alone changes the balance of the realm."
Ned's voice lowered.
"He also asked for timber from the Wolfswood."
Catelyn frowned slightly.
"For what purpose?"
"To build a fleet."
The room stilled again.
Robb leaned forward.
"A fleet?"
Ned nodded.
"For the Vale."
Ser Rodrik exhaled slowly.
"That is no small ambition."
Ned's eyes returned to the fire.
"No," he said quietly.
"It is not."
But inside—
He understood.
Michel Arryn was not building for now.
Across the room—
Sansa sat in silence.
But her thoughts were far away.
She saw him again.
Standing in the hall.
Calm.
Unshaken.
A knight.
A champion.
And now—
Her future husband.
A faint smile touched her lips.
For the first time—
Her dreams of court and song…
Felt real.
But far beyond that chamber—
Beyond Winterfell—
Beyond the Seven Kingdoms—
The winds were already shifting.
And though Sansa dreamed of becoming Lady of the Eyrie—
She did not yet know—
That she would stand beside a man who was not just a lord…
But a storm.