Sansa had to admit, she was excited at the things Ghost was practically yelping as he came running up. A smile broke over the lass’ lips, her eyes shining with a kind of hope and relief. “I am very glad he agreed to let me in,” she breathed as the sunlight warmed her red-pelted back. Sansa’s eyes ticked around the land, then landed back on her brother again. “How old are your sons now? They must be very big.” She was still wary of meeting Daenerys, the woman of a family supposed to be insane and tyrannical. But if Ghost liked Daenerys, she must not be like the other members of her family. She had borne Ghost sons, which a typical Targaryen, or so Sansa had heard, wouldn’t do. They were big on incest, and tried not to marry outside their family.

“The worst ones always come back.”