Chapter 12

Sansa reclined under the heart tree in the godswood. The crisp, cold of winter was slowly abating to the colors and warmth of a dawning spring. Maester Wolkin said this had been the shortest winter in living memory. That came as no real surprise with the death of the Night King; it felt as if nature had been holding its breath and now breathed again, giving for beauty and serenity. Sansa found herself humming the Mother's Hymn as the red leaves rustled around her. It had been eight months since the battle against the dead and she still lamented the significant losses that occurred that day.

House Targaryen had finally ceased to be with the death of Queen Danerys. During the physical battle, Bran had fought the Night King for mind control over the dead dragon, barely keeping influence until Danerys and her dragons entered the fray for physical dominance. They managed to bring the Night King and his dragon down and bath them in a torrent of dragon fire. The Night King speared Danerys in rage, the fire burning yet not consuming him. With her final breaths, she pulled the spear from out of her own body and drove it through her dead child. In anguish, Jon Snow viciously attacked the Night King with Longclaw, a fight of fire and ice. Their fight was harrowing and unmatched yet neither bested the other for Jon managed to deal a fatal blow with his Valyrian steel but did not escape from his own grievous wounds. With the death of the Night King, all the dead under his influence ceased to fight. The list of the victorious dead was agonizingly long and many good men and women perished during the battle to defend the living.

Quickly after the battle, Arya traveled south with Gendry and a few others. The hope was she could stop Queen Cercei and prevent the next battle with the hired Golden Company. There were not enough survivors to defend Winterfell again, their strength was minimal and fragile. Sansa thought of that day, the last time she saw her sister. They had hugged for a long time, standing in the courtyard of Winterfell. The men sat on the ready horses waiting but Sansa could not let her sister go. A part of her knew that if anyone could survive this world it was Arya, she was one of the strongest, bravest people Sansa knew yet it felt like a small piece of her heart was breaking for a reunion was unlikely for a long time. After so much death, she just wanted to keep her sister safe and close by.

"Cercei has been on my list for many years. I need to do this." Arya softly said, her arms around her sister.

Sansa sniffed. Being pregnant had made her weepy about everything but she tried to hold back her tears. "I know. I know you will do this and Westeros will be better for it, I just hate to see you go."

"I promise I'll come straight back."

Sansa released her sister and looked over at the nearby Gendry, catching his eye. "You keep her safe for me, Gendry Waters. I need her to come home."

He gave a slight bow, sitting on his horse. "Yes, my lady."

"I can watch out for myself. It's Gendry that needs to watch his back." Arya huffed, looking between her sister and her lover.

"As you command, milady." Gendry winked.

"Ugh!" Arya gave Sansa a quick peck on the cheek before mounting her own horse and leading the small band of men out of Winterfell.

A few weeks later, Tyrion Lannister and what was left of Queen Danerys' army began their march south. It had been decided that once Queen Cercei was dead, Tyrion would be named King, with Varys as his Hand and Missandei as a trusted advisor. One of his first decrees after being named "future king", Tyrion had named Sansa Wardeness of the North and promised she would always have a place in the council at King's Landing, That was the last thing she wanted, she had no desire to ever go back to King's Landing. It had been a place of torment for her but she smiled and profusely thanked him anyway. Her place was in the North with her people.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Sansa was drawn from her thoughts as Sandor came up behind her. She carefully rose from her sitting position, to greet her husband with a chaste kiss. They had quietly wedded after Tyrion and his army left, desiring privacy and peace for their nuptials. This had been her third wedding, she no longer desired the beautiful gowns and crowds to adore her as she pledged herself to someone. This was her marriage by choice and she wanted it cherish every moment without a crowd to worry about.

"How are my little birds?" Sandor leaned down and ever so gently kissed the forehead of his sleeping baby girl in Sansa's arms.

"This seems to be her favorite place to sleep." Sansa commented, gazing down at her daughter. The girl was not even a month old but had stolen the hearts of everyone in Winterfell. She had her father's brown hair and her mother's vivid blue eyes. She had come in the middle of the night, a small cry while the wolves howled to the full moon. Sandor had refused to leave Sansa's side during her birthing, much to the dismay of the Maester. He held her hand, offering his support and strength as she screamed with each wave of pain bringing forth new life from within her body. She did not think she could have loved him anymore after spending a day and night with her, comforting and encouraging as he could.

"A raven came."

"Oh?"

"Queen Cercei is dead…and sounds like my brother too."

Sansa laid a hand on Sandor's arm, they had been expecting this but it still sent a shock through her. "What did it say?"

"Something about Cercei killing herself with poison and 'the Mountain is now a pile of ash'." He clenched his jaw, face tense. "She promised she would do that for me."

"Arya?"

"Aye. For me, she said she would make him burn."

Mixed emotions collided for dominance inside Sansa. Horror that her sister had purposely burned someone alive, even someone as vile and villainous as Ser Gregor Clegane. He had raped and murdered innocents all over the Riverlands under the command of the Lannisters. He had permanently mutilated his own brother as a child. Westeros was a much better place without him in it. Yet she felt sadness and pain for Sandor because she understood that he wished he could have dealt the death blow to his abusive brother. It would take a long time for the hatred of his brother to dispel from Sandor. His life and those that Ser Gregor had viciously taken were avenged. She thought of her own fire for vengeance that burned within her when she killed Ramsey. She had wanted his life blood spilt on her command, by her hand. It had helped heal a part of her wounds from him; she hoped Sandor's own personal pains would be able to find a different way to heal without bloodshed.

"When she gets back, I'm sure she'll tell you all the details." Before they could comment further, a soft coo danced upward drawing their attention to their baby, suddenly alert and watching them. "She is probably getting hungry, want to walk with us to the Keep?"

Sandor kissed Sansa's temple then wrapped an arm around her waist as they began walking.

"We had a meeting this morning…" Sansa began trying to sound casual but gauging Sandor's expression.

"Mmm?"

"…making plans for the future coronation of Tyrion…"

"Fucking Imp."

"…and who should go to represent. There were several other important matters we discussed…"

"Maester Wolkin likes to hear his own voice."

"…I sent someone to find you but they couldn't…"

"Probably a cunt tracker."

"…I later learned Stranger was missing too."

"Huh?"

She smiled up at Sandor, like a nursemaid gently scolding a rebellious child. "You are the Lord of Winterfell, eventually you are going to have to attend these meetings."

He snorted. "I agreed to marry you, I never agreed to be a fucking lord…Oh!"

Sansa elbowed him in the ribs, a smirk on her face.

"I don't know how to run a castle or the whole damn North! I am only good at training and beating the men."

"I don't expect you to know all." She paused a moment before continuing. "I need your support, the other lords and men value your opinion and expect you to take an interest in your home." She sighed. "If you show up and not say a word, that is fine. I'll make sure you have a bottomless mug of ale. I just need you to sit there and look like a lord."

"You drive a hard bargain, little bird."

"It was either that or you won't be invited to share my bed anymore."

"Oh! Your bed? It was my fucking bed from the beginning!"

"But I am the Lady of Winterfell and can choose where I wish to lay my head, thus I claim it as mine."

Sandor laughed, disturbing a nearby bird. "So if I attend the next meeting, I don't have to say a word, drink as much ale as I want and can still sleep in my bed?"

"Think that is too much for you?"

His tone changed from amused to sincere. "For you, I would do anything."

She stopped him and placed a hand on his chest. "I know you would, beloved." She kissed him, not caring anymore who was around. Life and happiness was something that had been fought for and she intended to bask in the rewards as much as possible. With all the both of them had been through in their lives, it amazed her that they found love. She intended to embrace every moment of it that she could.

A coy smile slipped onto Sansa's lips. "Perhaps I should start calling you 'my lord' instead of 'beloved'. It would be much more proper."

"Don't call me that." He growled. "Being married to you is more fucking work than I thought."

Author's Note: A huge thank you to all who have read this story! I had such a wonderful time writing it! To everyone who followed the story and left a comment, you guys are the best! This is my first fanfiction so I was very nervous but you guys are so encouraging. I am definitely inspired to write more. I am currently playing around with the idea of a modern AU with an Arya and Jaqen relationship. Would you read that? Let me know, maybe that will prompt me to start putting ideas down on paper faster. Thanks again!