Okay: big long wrap-up chapter to make up for stumbling half-way through. Thank you all for hanging in.

The baker's widow was chopping the fresh horse meat brought to her from Winterfell by the smith's daughter Rose when she heard her front door open and the sound of a pair of heavy boots on the floor. She didn't need to turn to know who it was. That Blackfish agin'; he don't gives up easy, that one.

"I thanks ye fer th'meat frum th'castle, Ser," she said over her shoulder.

"I'm no Ser," a voice rasped firmly.

The baker's widow jumped and turned to see Lord Clegane standing in her doorway. He shut the door tightly behind him.

"Forgives me, m'lord; I thought ye were-"

"I know," he replied shortly, and took a long step into the room to look down on her. Then he looked towards her work table. "You're very good with a knife, aren't you?"

"M-m'lord?" she stammered vaguely. "The-the Blackfish, m'lord, had flour an' horse meat sent frum th'castle. He said it wouldn't be no hardship-"

"That's not why I'm here…and I expect you know that," he nodded as he spoke.

"N-no, m'lord, I-" Her eyes darted about the room as though seeking escape.

"The Frey boy was not patrolling the village when your husband was killed; he was in the keep. I was reminded of that before his trial."

"M-might it not be he slipped away, m'lord? I didn'a see him meself acause I was upstair wit' m'daughters," she told him.

"You didn't see him because he was not here…because you killed your husband yourself," he insisted quietly. "Didn't you?"

Tears welled up in the widow's eyes. "M-mercy, m'lord. Not fer me, but fer m'daughters. Send'em aways afore…afore ye must take m'head, m'lord: don'a lets 'em see, or live where their own ma'd be a known as a killer…like th'Frey." She looked up at Sandor appealingly. "He…I just couldn'a takes it no more, m'lord, a-bein' scared all'a th'time like, and fearin' fer th'girls. So's when he raised his han' th'last time an' I had th'knife…I used it. Folks was already bein' kill't so's I reckoned what's one more?" She almost laughed in her nervousness and fear and instantly clamped her hand over her mouth, "Forgives me, m'lord," she whispered.

"I wish you had let my lady send you away when she offered to; we could have protected you and your girls," he rasped.

She shook her head, defeated. "No, tha'd never a worked. It never did, not never, m'lord."

"Well, might be this will be difficult for my lady, to needs condemn a mother," he began.

"I-I'se powerful sorry, m'lord. She's a-seen enough a'death, I expec'," she began to sniffle.

"Aye, that she has…and so you must take this to your grave," he warned her harshly.

The widow nodded resignedly and then looked up, perplexed.

"You can never tell anyone, do you understand me?" he loomed over her ominously. "I cannot be known to be tolerant of any crime, much less a murder of another villager, no matter how vile he may have been," he thought to grab and shake sense to her but could see from her face that she understood. Still, he wanted there to be no doubt of his seriousness. "If any word gets out, if anyone suspects; then we'll have no choice but to put you on trial…for murder," he leaned in closer still and rasped: "I'll be very angry if my lady needs condemn a mother with children; you don't want me to be angry when I'm the one who swings the sword." He saw her gulp and tremble and was satisfied. He backed away now.

"Don't hesitate to come to the castle if you need help, or ask the soldiers to send someone," he added as an afterthought. "My lady wishes to rebuild the North, you see," he turned to look at her now, "and we cannot do that without you. And I will not see my lady disappointed." He nodded and left.

….

Sandor found Sansa in the great hall when he returned to Winterfell. When she spotted him, she nodded and looked toward the stairs. Sandor understood and climbed up to their chamber to wait for her.

When she arrived, she closed the door behind her and walked swiftly to him, her expression anxious.

"Sandor?" she whispered

"She knows I know, little bird; and she knows she will be tried if anyone else should ever know," he rasped softly so they could not be heard. It had in fact been Sansa who remembered the Frey had been patrolling the keep when the baker was killed. Sandor recalled that he had been patrolling or off duty at the times of all the other murders; only the baker's death could not be his work.

Sansa stared into the middle distance. "Even if she were tried, Sandor; I do not think I could condemn her," she stated resignedly.

He reached to gently trace his fingertip from her brow to her chin. "I know, little bird…but she doesn't need to know that," he added.

Sansa nodded vaguely. "You're right." She looked up at him now. "Thank you, Sandor, for your counsel and your help in this matter. I know it cannot be easy for you, to be thought weak or-"

Sandor scoffed. "That is the last thing she is thinking, I made bloody sure of that," he rasped fiercely. Then he softened. "I couldn't condemn her either, little bird: a woman and children living in fear of a brute…" he trailed off, not needing to explain further. "Still, we cannot have anyone know; we cannot to risk your position as warden by overlooking a crime. Let them think it was the Frey: they'll be satisfied with that."

She nodded awkwardly. Sandor could see the thought of the boy still upset her. He cleared his throat. "I needs leave for afternoon training now, little bird: I've your little lord brother to instruct."

"Oh! Of course," she nodded. "Well then…" she stood aside to let him pass, and gave him a restrained smile. He wished for something to make her smile for true. In time, he reminded himself, she will be well in time. He bent to kiss her cheek lightly and quickly, and left their chamber.

….

Sansa stood beneath the bridge between the armory and Great Keep, watching from the shadows as Rose practiced her knife and spear-handling with the wildling women later in the day. After she had seem them join the soldiers to rescue Sansa from the Frey, Rose had decided that she wanted more training to learn to protect herself and her son. Sansa smiled to see her determination to become strong. Strong, not hard. She sighed, remembering her own determination to be stronger for her own family and to share responsibilities with Sandor so he would not need to be strong for both of them. She squared her shoulders and set out across the yard, nodding to the respectful greetings until a great mess of wet snow fell on the back of her head and slipped beneath her cloak and gown.

"Oh!" She turned when she heard laughter and spotted her brother at the sole window of the bridge.

"Rickon! You sneak!" Sansa shrieked for all of Winterfell to hear. 'I'll get you for that!" Sansa picked up a great pile of snow in her gloved hands and packing it before lifting her hem and hurrying towards the keep. She waited at the door for him to come into the yard but he had doubled back and come out the armory to fling another snowball at her.

Sansa turned and hurled her own snowball at her brother, hitting him square in his face. He threw his hands up and howled before doubling over. Sansa ran to him.

"Rickon," she asked worriedly, "did I hurt you?"

"No!" He laughed and threw more snow at her. Sansa gave chase through the yard as the soldiers and tradesmen shouted encouragement.

"Aye, show'im then, m'lady!"

"Get'im good!"

"Nay, he went t'other way, m'lady."

Sandor came down the steps from the inner wall to hear Sansa and Rickon laughing and shrieking and being chased by Shaggydog around the yard as they threw snowballs and sometimes just handfuls of snow at each other. His mouth twitched into a brief smile before he headed to the stables.

Some time later Sansa found him there, brushing Stranger in his stall. She didn't question why he took care of his own horse rather than the stable boys or grooms; no one but Sandor could handle Stranger. Sandor even claimed his courser had broken bones and bitten off ears of brothers on the Quiet Isle. She decided it was safer to believe him though the temperamental horse had eventually learned to tolerate Sansa on their return to the North.

"Who won your fight?" Sandor rasped when he saw her watching him. Her hair had loose tendrils and her face and cloak were damp from melted snow.

"Both of us…or mayhaps neither," she smiled soflty. She stepped forward and tentatively reached her hand out to Stranger's muzzle. The horse nickered softly and so she stroked his face up to his dark forehead.

"I had a dream last night," she told Sandor. "It was summer; and we rode out together on Stranger." She stopped stroking him and came to stand beside Sandor in the stall.

Sandor grunted. "Might be he'll be too old to carry the both of us come summer, little bird." He patted his courser's rump affectionately. "Won't you then?" he asked it. "I'll want to pick the best mare, and see if he'll breed. So we'll have a pony for Catya…when she's ready." He turned his head to look her over. "Might be we'll have two or more," he added.

Sansa smiled brighter now. "That's a lovely idea, Sandor. Even Stranger can have a family," she observed wistfully.

Sandor continued brushing his horse. "And where did we ride in your dream? To our lands?" he asked, referring to the lands of the ruined Dreadfort that had been awarded to him by Rickon with his lordship after the wars.

Sansa shook her head. She had no desire to take up residence in the Boltons' former stronghold and so Sandor had made no move to claim or even rebuild it. He only sent the occasional patrol of soldiers to ensure the peace was kept though most crofts were abandoned and most villages as near-empty as the winter town. Sansa sometimes wondered if she were dreaming to believe the North could be strong again by Spring or Summer.

"We rode to the edge of the Wolfswood," she told him instead. "We had sun on our faces, and wind in our hair and we could smell green grass and the trees and flowers; and everything was warm and green and beautiful so that we did not even needs wear cloaks."

"That sounds very nice, little bird; but I'm afraid it will be some times before your dream comes true," he rasped.

She stepped closer to him. "We stopped to share bread and wine," she murmured, "and then I unbound my hair and unlaced my gown so that I could lie in the grass and give myself to you. " She trailed her hand down his arm now. "I've missed you, Sandor."

Sandor finished brushing Stranger and turned to set the brush on a shelf before turning back to Sansa. She stepped to him to reach her arms around his neck but he stopped her by taking her wrists, then lifted each hand to his mouth to kiss them.

"Not here," he leaned down to tell her close to her ear, "and not now. I don't want to fumble under your wet cloak and have you quickly, little bird. I want to unbind your hair and unlace your gown and have you give yourself to me as you would in the warm grass of the Wolfswood. Will you let me do that, little bird?"

Sans blushed and nodded. "Yes, Sandor, of course I will," she whispered.

Sandor paused to press his lips into the damp auburn hair curling behind her ear. "Go on, then. Change before you catch chill and your skin is as cold as the Others. Then I will wait until summer to touch you again." He smacked her bottom lightly and pushed her gently towards the door. She smiled secretly as she raised her hem and ran lightly back towards the yard and keep.

….

Kit entered the solar hesitantly. "M'lady," he addressed Sansa.

Sansa smiled at him and set down her quill. "Kit Snow, I thank you for coming. You may enter, please."

He walked into the room and stood before her makeshift desk. "How might I be of service, m'lady?"

"You may permit me to thank you for your service, Kit Snow: had you not appeared on the wall when you did with the other soldiers…that…that boy would have slit my throat….h-he meant to harm my unborn child as well. I-"

"It be an honor t'be of service, m'lady. Don't ye thinks no more on'im- " he stopped himself. "Forgives me, m'lady: I meant t'say: please don'a thinks on that no more; I fears it can'a be good for ye…nor the child." He raised his head now and stood taller. "Lord Eddard Stark was right good t'me, m'lady; I won't never forgets that. For him, and for yerself, m'lady, I'm proud an' grateful te have been of service te ye."

Sansa dropped her eyes to her clasped hands. "It pleases me to hear you speak so well of my lord father, Kit Snow; tell me, please: do you remember him truly?"

"Aye, m'lady," he smiled gently now, "they bringed us boys from the orphan's place te Winterfell te see if we'd be taken t'apprentice-like. I was th'biggest an' so yer lord father sat me'n in the hall and give me t'eat and asks me name an' iffen I likes bein' outside an' can works hard a'cause there be a crofter wit' only girl babes and needin' a boy te helps'em. So's I tol'im 'aye' an' he send me off wit' new boots an'breeches an'shirt all bundle'up in a cloak and tells me te be a good lad an' might be…" he stopped. "He was a good strong man, an' kind, m'lady."

"But what did he tell you might be, Kit Snow? Please tell me," she insisted gently.

"Lord Stark, well, he says it might be I have me own croft someday, m'lady. I-I expec' he meant I'd marry one o'th'girls…but they'se gone now," he hung his head.

"You would like your own croft," she prompted, "and a family of your own as well. Do not be shy to say so, for these are fine things to want. My lord said that you wish to have a family someday," she reminded him.

"Aye, an' told me we coulds live here at Winterfell, m'lady, where I'm needed," he assured her. "I won'ts leave the commander after he's been good te me as Lord Stark was, m'lady."

Sansa ducked her head as he eyes filled with tears. "You are so very kind to say so, Kit Snow; and we do need you here at Winterfell for now, however, in the Spring, we will need crofters to plant and raise crops and harvest them. So many families have been lost, and so many homesteads are destroyed and abandoned. So, if it is your wish to have a croft of your own, it would please me very much to grant you the lands of the family to whom my father sent you, or any other lands if they should return. Would that please you, Kit Snow?"

The young man could barely contain his excitement. A great smile split his face and he bowed twice. "It would, m'lady; I can'a thanks ye enough. You're as kind an' generous as yer lord father, m'lady. I can'a wait te tell-" he stopped suddenly and dropped his eyes. "…th'other soldiers," he finished too late.

Sansa tilted her head and smiled softly. "You are passing fond of Rose and her boy, Kit Snow; you do not offend me nor do I believe it offends her."

Kit blushed and scuffed his feet on the floor. "She's only jus' a turn a widow-" he began awkwardly.

"Give it time, Kit Snow: all will be well in time," she advised him. "And there will be time enough before Spring."

"Aye, m'lady," he replied simply.

Sansa looked at him fondly for a moment: his dark looks and seriousness of purpose reminded her somewhat of Jon.

"You may go," she said finally, and the boy bowed to her again and left.

Later that night, when she lay curled up in Sandor's arms, she recounted the conversation with him.

"Buggering hells, girl, he's one of the best in the garrison…and you'll lose your maid as well," he complained mildly.

"We'll need crofters more than soldiers in Spring, Sandor; though just because it is right does not mean it will be easy," she lifted her head now to look him in the eyes. He softened then, and brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"You know best, little bird," he rasped softly, "you're the Lady of Winterfell."

"Hm," she agreed and kissed him lingeringly before looking into his eyes again. She ran her hand over the hair on his chest and rubbed her leg between his. "Are you…that is, will you sleep now, my love?"

Sandor's mouth twitched into a grin. "You're a randy little bird, is that it? Mind you dream of Summer more often; it should keep me warm until Winter is gone," he growled as she moved closer to him.

"Winter is never truly gone in the North, my love; you know our words: Winter is coming."

"I will be too, little bird, if you keep rubbing my cock like you're doing," he grunted.

She giggled softly now. "But Sandor, you've forgotten the best part of my dream," she whispered closely, brushing her lips over his.

"I buggering did not! You've been unbound and unlaced and gave yourself," he kissed her fiercely now, " -to me. What in seven hells did I forget?" he demanded.

"Hm, that I wanted to ride," she told him, and threw her leg over his hip to settle on top of him with her hands on his broad chest. He reached to frame her face with his hands.

"To the Wolfswood s it? Pace yourself then." His eyes dropped to her middle and he tenderly caressed her rounded belly. "…and go gently, little bird," he rasped quietly now.

Sansa looked at him and leaned forward again. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, that she loved carrying their babe and being in his arms and waking up to him every day. She loved his strength and his tenderness and how safe and how much braver she felt with him beside her. Instead she kissed him deeply and passionately, and hoped that would be enough.

…..

The baker's widow looked up at the clear night sky full of stars before latching the shutter. As she pulled back form the window, she heard a horse snort below in the road and saw the Blackfish sitting astride his courser. He looked away quickly as she spotted him and picked up his reins.

"Ser," she called. "Ser Blackfish: please." She ran from the window and down her narrow stairs to the front door, which she opened slightly. The man had dismounted and walked to greet her with a respectful nod of his head.

"Forgives me, Ser," she pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders. "But I wished te thank'ye for the rations ye sent wit' Rose. I mades meat pies for m'girls an' they was happy t'eat so well. I- I'm right grateful…I could'na lets ye pass wit'out sayin' is all."

"Thank you, you are very kind," he replied formally. "I was glad to do it…and very pleased to hear they were happy and well fed," he added in a softer tone.

She looked at him and found some courage. "I- that is, we have another pie t'eat tomorrow supper, Ser…might ye like t'eat wit' us…so we can thanks ye proper? I expec' ye eat better at th'castle…"

"I would have been very honored to join you," he interjected, "however I must leave on the morrow."

"Leave?" She sounded confused. "Te th'Riverlands, Ser?"

"No, not so very far but to patrol Lord Clegane's lands to the east: there is no garrison in the old keep naturally. It lies in ruins."

The widow nodded grimly. "Them Boltons gots what they deserved; folks knows it was you an' Lord Clegane put them to th'sword…and th'dragon queen finished'em wit' fire an' blood."

The Blackfish ducked his head modestly. "Well, I don't image we shall have such adventures this time…just cold and snow for the nest few turns."

"May th'old gods watch over ye' and th'rest, Ser," she murmured now.

"Thank you…mayhaps…if it is not untoward to ask, may I call on you and your daughters when I return. I should like to know how you are faring," he asked more formally again.

She nodded slightly. "I- tha'd be right kind of ye, Ser."

He looked at her a long moment before stepping back. 'You should go in now, it is very cold."

"G'night, Ser," she began closing the door.

He looked back as he walked to his horse. "And it was very nice to see you looking up," he pointed to the night sky, "you looked rather hopeful, instead of frightened. I pray things continue to go well for you. Farewell then."

….

The next morning Sansa descended to the yard with Sandor to see her great-uncle off on patrol. As the soldiers left through the gate, a number of villagers arrived and Sansa recognized them as those who had volunteered to work some days of very turn to help repair the castle. This morning they dragged a low sledge behind them with something tied to it. They brought it right into the yard and stopped before Sansa and Sandor.

"Mornin' m'lady, m'lord," the smith was somewhat out of breath. "We'se brought ye sumthin'…for Lord Clegane it is…tis our thanks fer puttin' down the Frey murderer," he finished.

Sandor could see square corners of wood sticking up from underneath a length of worn oilcloth. Seven hells, they've made me a coffin: they truly do mean to murder me, he scoffed humorlessly to himself.

"What is it?" Sansa asked with innocent curiosity.

"Show our lady then," the smith motioned to the others. They tipped the object upright and removed the oilcloth.

"Oh!" Sansa cried, delighted and tearful all at once. "Sandor…my lord: look, it's-"

It was a large wooden armchair, built high off the ground with a wide seat and high back to fit Sandor's large frame and great height. The rough boards had been sanded smooth and treated with linseed oil and the ends of the armrests had been crudely carved to resemble dog heads.

"We'se took th'wood frum the cooper's place, not thinkin' he'd mind, m'lord; and the seat be horsehair from th'animal what was put down. Th'tanner found leather fer the arms. I fears carvin's not one'o our trades…but might be somes here could do a better job'o it."

Sandor stayed rooted as he looked over the piece. Finally he nodded. "I like it fine the way it is," he rasped. "It's a fine gift," he said simply.

"Now ye's kin sit by yer lady, m'lord, like a proper lord then," the tanner told him.

"Only a Stark sits the high seat of Winterfell," Sandor cut him off brusquely. The men all stared uncomfortably.

Sansa smiled at them. "Mayhaps in the solar, my lord, so that we may keep each other company in some comfort now."

Sandor inclined his head to Sansa. "As you wish, my lady," he spoke respectfully to her.

"So's ye know we thinks yer a right Northern lord now, m'lord," the smith said firmly. "Sure it's not be like the fine bits of old, but we wants te gives yer sumthin' of yer own fer th'castle." He was followed by a chorus of 'ayes' from the other villagers.

Sandor stared at the armchair again and nodded. "I thank you for your gift," he said simply. "I needs train now; and you all have work to do."

"Aye, m'lord," they all murmured and bowed and went on their respective ways.

Sansa stepped closer to him. "I'll have it brought up to the solar, my lord. The garrison is waiting for you."

Sandor nodded to her and walked to where the soldiers were waiting. "What do you all think you're looking at?" he bellowed. "You're none of you like to sit and rest your arses this morning; now fall in!"

After the evening meal in the great hall, Sansa retired to the solar to work on her proposal to the Queen. Sansa wished to teach natural-born girls their letter and numbers to that they could travel to villages and teach the children of the commons. She believed it would improve life for all the Northerners if they could read and write and do simple sums; and that it would improve the prospects for bastard girls who would no longer be looked upon as mere wenches. Sansa wanted every village and holdfast in the North to have a teaching house.

As she composed her missive, she stole looks at Sandor walking around his chair and examining it from all angles before finally sitting down. She thought how wonderful it was that the villagers, her people, had come to accept him, and she smiled to herself.

"Are you laughing at me, little bird?" he growled now.

Sansa raised her head and shook it slowly though she still smiled to see him sitting in the great armchair.

"No Sandor, I was thinking of my father who always sat in the solar in his great chair and told of stories of the children of the forest and the old gods. I think of him often in this room," she added with a sad fondness.

Sandor held out his hand to her. "Come here, little bird."

Sansa rose and crossed to him and then sat in his lap with her arms around his neck. Sandor lowered his head to hers.

"I've been thinking of your father as well," he rasped.

"Have you?"

Sandor put his large hand on her swelling belly now. "I've been thinking if we have a son…might be we should call him Eddard. Would you like that, little bird?"

Sansa nodded, her eyes filling with tears of happiness. "But Sandor, we named out daughter for my mother and Arya; it there no one in your own family-"

He cut her off: "You're my family now; and Winterfell is our home. I've nothing but myself…and a dog sigil," he mocked. "You and Catya and our next pup,little bird: that's all the family I need…and Rickon and the Blackfish," he gestured to mean her entire family.

"Thank you, Sandor," Sansa whispered and kissed him gently. "Lord Eddard Clegane," she pronounced softly.

Sandor's mouth twitched into a smile and he looked into her eyes. "Let's be done with death now, little bird; we've a new life on his way." He pulled her to him and kissed her back.

….

The innkeeper's wife took the worn wool dresses and stockings and shawl from a burlap bag to give to the baker's widow.

She'd not much at all, poor Jeynie, an' I coulds not part wit' it 'til t'day, she explained, but th'poor child's a-gone an' not comin' back so they may's well warm some other girls. Ye kin cuts 'em down te fit or waits fer them te grow; it's no matter te me so long's they be put te good use then.

The baker's widow bowed her head over the small pile. That be right kind of ye: gods, they be growin' so fast, and winter not yet done. I can'a thanks ye enough.

It be like the Lady a'Winterfell says: we needs help an' look te each other iffen we're te make it alive. So's it's glad I am te be doin' it, she nodded resolutely.

Did them men who bad-mouth'd her lord truly give him a big fancy seat te sits in? the widow asked her.

Ye bets yer arse they did: I'se kept at'em 'til they were done, to be sure: right lazy iffen ye lets'em be. She rolled her eyes. Then she leaned closer to speak confidentially. Not all, mind ye: I'll be missin' seein' that Blackfish in these parts, he's fine te look at for an older man, what wit' them Tully-blue eyes like our King'o th'North, an' that voice o'his could-a make a wil'cat purr, she laughed at her own bawdy humor.

It's not fer good an' all, the widow smiled secretly, he'll be comin' back soon enough then.

FINIS

AN: Once again I must credit FanGrrrl6966 and her story "Shades of Yellow and Grey" for her idea of Sansa promoting literacy in the North.