(English isn't my first language, so sorry in advance for my grammar problems! ;)

Northern Wind

Alayne watched The Vale of Arryn from the window of her chambers at the Eyrie. The keep was bustling with the preparations for the day; the maidens rushed from one place to another and no one seemed to be idle, save for her. She had asked specifically not to be bothered during the morning seeking for her last moments of solitude.

She bent over the stone sill of the window, closed his eyes and let the wind mess up her hair. I wish it was Northern Wind, Alayne thought, a strong gale that will take everyone far away. In the distance she could hear the squawk of an eagle flying over the castle, a dog barking at the courtyard and if she struggled a bit, even a wolf's howl. She wanted to weep, but a taste of bile filled her throat instead and made her grimace. There are no wolves, not anymore, she thought bitterly as she retired from the window. She swallowed hard and stepped into the hall, lifting his head. There was a wedding to attend.

When Alayne finally stepped outside, she saw a group of hooded monks at the courtyard. She recalled that his father had told her they were coming from the Quiet Isle as their Elder Brother was going to officiate at the ceremony. She gently greeted them with a nod and continued her path until she felt one of the monk's stare fixed on her. Drawn by the intensity of those eyes she couldn't see, she watched him turn; he was tall, more than any man had right to be, with large, calloused hands and under the habit he seemed to have a warrior's body, not a monk's. The monk took a couple of limping steps toward her so she could glimpse his face. A gust of wind messed her hair up again making her shiver from head to toes.

Sansa Stark realized then that, even there might not be wolves anymore; dogs were still loyal. Her lips curled in a faint smile she knew only he would be able to see and heard him growl in what might be a chuckle. She continued walking towards the main gate, followed closely by the monk. Maybe she had been wrong; maybe a northern wind would have finally come to take them all away... and her with him.