Walk it Off

Prologue

Sansa Stark was, and still is a beautiful woman. Her smiles would make even the hardest man's knees weaken and their hearts leap to their throat. Her long auburn hair curling near her waist in thick, large rings, and vivid Tully blue eyes… she was of Tully colouring, only with age had she finally showed her Stark nature.

The cameras flickered as she continued, 'one foot in front of the other', those thoughts far too complex to keep her heart from fluttering painfully and constricting her throat. She paused at the end of the runway, her eyes searching with the ever present grin, fake as it was, painted on her face. She was beautiful. She knew it, they knew it… everyone knew it. Yet where was he?

Her mother had sat there, in the seat between Eddard Stark, Sansa's father, and Robb, her elder brother. Sansa had hoped that Robb would bring a woman along, but the seat beside him was taken by his childhood friend—Theon. With a twirl in the ridiculously high heeled shoes she was forced into, Sansa Stark returned to the dressing room.

Another outfit, another walk, pause, walk, strip, dress… repeat. That was her life now. Sansa Stark the model. Sansa Stark the beauty. Sansa Stark the Lady. The auburn haired beauty who sang, and danced, and loved all things beautiful. They thought her a child… she had grown, and still she grew every day, and night.

Sansa Stark was no longer the child they still believed her to be.

When she returned to the catwalk, her Tully blue eyes had seen the shadow along the back for the first time that night. And she smiled. With a hood drawn over his head, hiding his face from her and others… she knew. And knew again when his gray eyes glinted with jealousy—he hated that so many where staring at her. His beauty. His little bird. 'His. His. His,' she grins holding her head up higher as she paused. Grin for the pictures, then turn.

And turn she did. With every step her hips swung out further then necessary. She held the attention of quiet a few eyes, and she knew one of them were his gray ones. She slipped back into the dressing room. "Where do you want this outfit?" she spoke, turning a few heads.

"I'll take it once you're out." Sansa nodded, felling the woman's hands assist her with the zippers, buttons and ties.

'They must always see to it that I were the most elaborate clothing, making it seem like hours to finally to finally rid myself of it,' she thought with a giggle. She knew what he would say to it.

"What's so funny Miss Stark?" the woman questioned as the cloth slipped from her shoulders.

"Just what my boyfriend would say to all these clothing," she giggled, the cloth pooled around her shoed feet.

"And what would he say?"

Sansa stepped from the circle of fabric, her feet had already gone numb from the heels, and she does not care if she is to deal with them for a few more passing moments. "That they're pointless, and that no one in their right mind should invest in something like this," she gestured to the article of clothing that the woman now hung on the wire-hanger. "Too many obstructions."

"Well he would be true about this piece," she replied with a smile.

Sansa laughed, "I agree," her voice muffled as she pulled her cocktail gown up her smooth legs. "Would you zip me up?" She swept her long locks over her shoulder as the zipper closed. Her parents will wait for her outside, while she would have to excuse herself. She would say she promised to go to dinner with a few friends, while in truth, she would be returning to his apartment where they will engage in many sorts of activities… not all of them being appropriate of a Lady without being wed, even in this day in age. And she would not like mother or father know that their proper little Lady was being bedded by him.

For Sansa Stark was pregnant…

…and Sandor Clegane was the father.