It was spring. Yes, it was definitely spring! You could feel it in the air, smell it in the breeze wafting from the godswood, see it on the faces of the boisterous children as they ran about the courtyards of Winterfell. Spring had finally come. The sun peaking out from the thinning clouds served as a constant reminder that long, harsh winter was over, and the sound of melting snow filled the ears of the inhabitants of the castle, playing as a soft, lilting music, filled with promises of the warm and sunny days to come.
She stood on the balcony overlooking the main courtyard, drinking in the sunshine and watching her children running about, finally free of the confines of the various wools and furs which had swaddled them in the cold months past. She could see that the sun gave them energy and brought out the youth in their faces. Sansa stroked her small belly and smiled at the thought of the new Targaryen that would join their family soon.
"No! Ned, give that back, you naughty boy!". Sansa was startled out of her blissful reverie as the sounds of her children rose to her ears.
"Neeeeeeeeeeeeed", came a whiny voice from below. It was her second child, Lyanna. The four year old terror was furiously grabbing at her not-quite-mature-at-this-moment seven year old brother, who had taken away her wooden sword with which she had just been jousting. The older Ned was currently swinging the wooden stick around the air in circles, just inches away from his very distraught younger sister.
"Ned, Lyanna, stop that at once!" Came the voice from above, as both children turned their faces up to their mother who suddenly looked menacing. "Eddard, put down the sword this instant!" Sansa waited for her son to obey before continuing. "Which part of chivalrous do you not understand? That is not how we treat a lady! You could have injured her, the way you were swinging that sword. I expected better of you, the future lord of Winterfell". The boy slumped significantly. She turned to her daughter, immediately wiping the smug look of satisfaction from the child's face. "And you, my lady, will be going to bed without a sweet tonight, for you have hit your older brother and acted like a street urchin! Inside, both of you." The smug look had passed to Ned's face. "I will be sure to mention this to your father". The children slunk away, disappearing through the large heavy doors of the main keep, and Sansa turned towards the entrance to her room.
The room of the Lord and Lady of Winterfell was heavily furnished with many furs and blankets, despite the increasingly warm weather. The large bed was covered in various throws, mirroring those hanging on the walls as tapestries. Sansa herself had embroidered them when she had been carrying Ned, and the Lyanna, and they bore richly colored flowers and greenery, the memory of which had kept them strong through the winter past. She would have to tell the servants to change the linens. Sansa sat down in the chair near the window and sighed. Indeed, she felt guilty for scolding the children. They had indeed been playing nicely, for a change. Ned was a strong boy, who was already adept in handling a sword, and who, despite being the privileged heir to Winterfell, already knew full well the meaning of chivalry and honor, the echo of which was already reflected in the Tully blue of his bottomless eyes.
Lyanna, on the other hand… Sansa smiled at the thought of her daughter. At just four years of age, the girl was already inheriting some of the more prominent traits of her grandmother and namesake. Sansa had never known her Aunt Lyanna, the latter having died birthing Jon. Whatever she had heard, Sansa knew that the young Lady Targaryen had definitely taken after her paternal grandmother. The child was headstrong and willful, and suffice it to say that she prefered swordplay and horses to dolls and dresses. In fact, she was an exact copy of the aunt currently residing in Storm's End as Lady Baratheon.
When Daenerys Targaryen had conquered Westeros with her dragons, she had shown kindness and understanding by legitimizing all the bastards who were willing to bend the knee, among them her nephew, Jon Snow, and Gendry Waters, who although was the only living descendent of the usurper, agreed to become a liege lord to the queen, and was now installed in Storm's End as the new Lord Baratheon.
Jon Snow. Sansa smiled once again as she thought of the man she had once deemed her half-brother, yet was now her husband. Howland Reed, the Crannogman who had been with Eddard Stark at the Tower of Joy when Lyanna Stark had died birthing Rhaegar Targaryen's son, had approached Jon, who had, after the destruction of the Wall, resided in Winterfell, and revealed to him his true parentage. Needless, to say, the new queen was quite worried when the news came to her of the supposed rightful heir to the Iron Throne, but Jon, being the quite, noble Stark that he was, happily relinquished the throne to his aunt, and in return, was made the new Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.
The newly made Lord of Winterfell had immediately set out in search of his lost cousins, the children of Eddard and Catelyn Stark, who had been dispersed at the beginning of the unrest. By pure miracle, he had chanced upon Sansa on the Eyrie, when news had come to him of the impending marriage of Harold Hardyng to a certain Alayne Stone. Jon had been invited, and was utterly bewildered when the bride-to-be was none other than his long lost sister. Sansa had been delirious with joy at the sight of her brother, and they had spent the entire day preceding the wedding talking, whereupon Jon had told her of his new circumstances, and Sansa, of the "unfortunate" death of Petyr Baelish through the Moon Door. By the next morning, Sansa was ready to call off the wedding, and return home. Jon tried to convince her to go on with the wedding, but the girl would not hear of it. All the assembled Lords and Ladies were disappointed, as was Harry, who proceeded to challenge Jon to a duel, when in a fit of drunkenness, lost his footing, and fell to his death through the Moon Door.
A few days later, a summons had arrived from King's Landing requesting the presence of Lord Targaryen and Lady Sansa Stark at the Red Keep. Upon arrival, Daenerys announced the betrothal of Jon and Sansa, who were very surprised, and had quite a time growing accustomed to the idea.
They were married in the Sept of Baelor, and journeyed back to rebuild WInterfell and begin their life as Lord and Lady Targaryen.
Sansa was once again jolted out of her reverie as she felt the babe inside her stir. She placed a calming hand over the spot, and the movement quieted. As she was about to get up, to go see to the children, there was a knock on the door, and her husband entered.
"Jon", she exclaimed. She was surprised, as Jon usually spent the early afternoon hours with Maester Tarly discussing the governing of the castle. It was unexpected to see him about at this hour.
"Sansa", he said as he moved towards her. He proceeded to place a kiss on her forehead before murmuring "my lady wife". Sansa smiled and blushed. The action was not unprecedented, yet she still sometimes thought back to the time when this man had been her brother, and how all that had changed, and that now they were man and wife.
"Jon, why are you about at this hour? Is everything all right?" Jon placed a kiss on her bump before answering.
"There;s been a letter from Storm's End. The Baratheons are coming to visit".