KITH AND KIN
CHAPTER 2
"No one knows where he's gone?"
"Not with any certainty, My Lady. I'm sure he'll return as soon as possible." Brienne answered from my side as my handmaid, Maylin shook her head.
"Very well. I will be in my solar, seeing to some correspondence. If any information is learned, please inform me. And when he returns, please have him see me at once."
"Yes, My Lady." Maylin responded before I turned to walk away with Brienne.
"I'm sure he is fine, Lady Sansa." Brienne tried to console, but my worry was at an all-time high.
"The note was very ominous and I know he's not one to think he needs help. We've finally reached peace in the realm, Lady Brienne. Yet there are still many in the North that are no friend to a previous Lannister man. I can just see him trying to asses any potential threats on his own." I admitted, not bothering to hide my fear for Brienne's sake.
"He is a formidable fighter, My Lady. Fret not." Brienne' words weren't untrue and I tried to calm myself, but it was very difficult until I knew he was alright.
"I know you're right, but I just wish I knew he was truly alright." I responded as I entered my solar and she stopped to stand at the door. "Would you like to come in and have a seat? Perhaps you can keep my mind occupied until his safe return."
"Is this the note?" Brienne asked taking the small parchment from the table as I sat and nodded. "Clegane, in name of the Stark Bitch, come alone." She read out loud and the words still sent a chill down my spine. "I can understand your worry. Had this been addressed to me, I'd certainly take it as a threat to yourself."
"Precisely. This person is clearly no friend of the Starks and I fear what they've got planned for him."
"Lady Sansa, while this seems to be a credible threat within Winterfell, he'll not let any harm come to you. I feel I must remind you of what I've already said. Defeating Clegane won't come easily to just anyone."
"You defeated him... it can be done." I reminded her and she looked away in what I was sure was regret. "And even if you're right and they don't defeat him, they might still injure him greatly." I added and she looked back in my direction.
"My Lady, I must ask. Why do I get the feeling you're more worried over Clegane, than the threat that has managed to breach Winterfell's walls?"
At her question, I felt my cheeks warm. I should have measured my words better, I realized. Yet in truth, I'd been growing tired of always having to measure my words around others and covering my feelings. I knew that a person's true feelings were a vulnerability the Lady of Winterfell could seldom afford. I looked into Brienne's eyes, debating whether or not I should reveal the truth, but my name being shouted from the hall saved me from saying anything.
"Lady Sansa, please come quick. It's the Houn- Clegane. He's back ma'am. In the main Hall." Maylin announced out of breath as she finally reached my doorway, and I could tell she ran all the way to my door.
Fear gripped me to my core as I thought over all the ways he might be hurt. Before I knew I was doing it, I was running from my solar, and towards the main hall where Maylin said Sandor was. I heard heavy footfalls running behind me and I knew it was Brienne. Once I finally reached the main hall, it was empty, save for Sandor kneeling close to the fireplace.
"Sandor?" I called tentatively, approaching him from behind. "What's happened? Are you alright?" I asked as I softly put my hand on his shoulder.
"I'm quite alright, Little Bird. Come see..." He answered, turning his upper body towards me.
After several seconds of looking over his face and noting there was no signs of blood or a fight, I realized he held a bundle in his arms. I gasped and fell to my knees before him when I realized it was a baby, he was holding.
"Oh, Sandor... may I?" I asked, reaching my hand to uncover the babe enough to get a good look.
"Aye. He finally stopped crying. I think he was just cold, so brought him here to warm him up a bit." Sandor answered while holding the baby far enough from his torso, allowing me to unwrap his cloak from around the infant.
The babe was sound asleep and comfortable in Sandor's arms. He had fair skin and short black hair. His tiny but rounded face was handsome and I looked back up at Sandor's face. Watching his face as he smiled down at the child, noting how natural he looked with the babe in his arms, the question died at the tip of my tongue. When he looked back at me with a smile, I felt my heart crack and swell at the same time.
In my mind, I suddenly saw how this could have been our future... our child. My heart sang with love for this man, stronger than it already had before. Then, I remembered that it wasn't our child and my heart cried. Still, I imagined there must be a reason its mother was not present and I fought my irrational jealousy to smiled back at Sandor.
"Does this child have anything to do with the note addressed to you? Did you eliminate the threat?" Brienne asked from behind me, and I was grateful, for I hadn't yet found my ability to speak.
"Aye, but there was no threat." Sandor told her without taking his eyes off mine.
"The tone of the letter made it seem so. See, Lady Sansa. There was no need for you to worry over Clegane after all. May I ask whose child this is?" Brienne's words made my cheeks flame anew but I still couldn't tear my eyes from Sandor's.
"You worried over me, Little Bird?" He asked with an unreadable gleam in his eyes and all I could do was nod. "Well, Brienne's got the right of it, as there was no need to worry." He managed to smile in a way that he rarely did, which made my heart skip a beat.
"And the child?" Brienne asked him and he broke eye contact with me to look down at the sleeping babe.
"Please don't ask me to name his mother. I've given my word to her and I'll not break that promise. Even still, won't lie to you, Little Bird." He responded, then looked back into my eyes.
"A hound will die for me but never lie to me." I stated and held his gaze for a moment as he nodded, before I addressed Brienne.
"Lady Brienne, will you please ask Maylin to fetch a wet nurse?"
"At once, My Lady." Brienne answered and went about doing as I requested.
"You're not one for oaths or promises, Sandor. If you gave your word to the child's mother, I'll not ask you to break it. May I ask why she has left the child in your care?" I asked.
"She said she couldn't be a mother to the child; that she couldn't love the child due to his father." He told me and I thought his heavy-hearted tone would surely break my heart.
"Oh Sandor, that's... pardon me for saying it, but that's horrible. What kind of woman could just …"
"She's a good woman, Little Bird. She's just not the mothering kind, and it's no fault of her own. I'll not have you speak ill of her without knowing." He rasped and I was startled by his defense of the child's mother.
Again, I felt a twinge of jealousy but I tampered it. I recalled Cercei once saying something about a mother loving her children even if she had no love of their father. I remembered her words each time Ramsay spilled his seed in me. For I hated every single thing about Ramsay, but at the time, I prayed Cercei was right... because I was sure I'd hate myself for hating any child born from that monster.
I shook the dark thoughts away and looked back at the babe Sandor held tenderly in his arms. The helpless, innocent child was as motherless as Jon had been when Father brought him to my mother. Perhaps, many things could have been different if he'd been honest with her, and perhaps not. Of only one thing I was certain, this babe would not lack any love or affection.
"I'm reminded of how my father swore an oath of secrecy to my aunt, and later presented my mother with a bastard babe he intended her to raise among her own." I heard myself saying.
"I know raising another woman's child is no easy task, but the last one turned out alright." Sandor said lightly, which caused me to smile at him.
"King Jon, long may he reign." I responded and he nodded.
"To be sure, this boy is no king. And his mother …" He said but let his words end there.
"His mother matters not, and I shan't ever bring her up again. I'll have Arya's old chambers set up for him, right beside mine. You're be right across the hall from the both of us, and I'll help you in every way that I can. Your son will be happy and loved here, Sandor." I told him, meaning every word.
"My son." He breathed, almost sounding like a question as he stared at me in shock, but I smiled at him so he'd know I meant what I said, without any doubts.
"May I hold him?" I asked, somewhat eagerly since the last babe I ever held was Rickon.
Sandor quickly, but gently placed him in my arms and I snuggled him close. As I looked down at the little lamb, I noticed he looked just as Rickon had, so long ago. My eyes teared up, and I shook my head softly, trying to dispel the sad memories so I could focus on little … I didn't know what to call him.
"Does he have a name?" I asked, realizing that it had not come up.
When I looked up at Sandor, I realized he'd been watching me with an odd expression, but it seemed warm and soft. For some reason, it made my heart beat faster when his eyes met mine. He smiled at me tenderly and I couldn't help myself. I secured the babe in one arm while I reached for his hand with the other. He and I both released a breath at the contact, then I realized he hadn't yet answered me.
"His name, Sandor. Does he have one?" I asked again with a small smile which he returned before shaking his head. "Well, what would you like to name your son? Perhaps a Clegane family name." I asked gently.
"No." He all but growled before lowering his voice. "You should name him." He told me and my pulse picked up yet again.
"Really? Are you sure?" I asked excitedly and was thrilled when he nodded with a wide smile. "All right, let me think."
And think, I did. Sandorson? No, that seemed too formal and literal. Sandy, no he'll not like that. Tons of my own family names were jumping out at me, but I wasn't sure he'd like a Northern name imposed on his child. I wished I knew more of his family names, but he was firmly against that idea, judging by the way he roared before. Roared, my mind echoed. Then, I giggled softly to myself as I looked down at the little one.
"Sandor, what do you think of the name, Rory?" I asked somewhat shyly while surpressing my giggle at the reason I'd come up with it.
"Aye, sounds like a strong and solid name, Little Bird." He confirmed and I beamed at his compliment.
"After his strong and solid father." I responded, and even I couldn't deny the coquettish way it came out.
"Rory Clegane will be fostered here in Winterfell. We'll raise him well, Sandor. I have no doubt he'll grow up to be an amazing warrior, like you. And I will help him learn everything else. He'll be... he'll be strong, gentle and kind... just like you."
I'd gotten so excited as I spoke and pictured our lives raising the baby. It wasn't until I recalled the words my father told me once, that I noticed how close Sandor and I had gotten. Our faces were only a breath away from the other, and only the babe separated us. I found myself looking at his lips. My heart and mind yelling, and my lips begging to be kissed by him. Just when I thought he might, we were interrupted.
"Begging your pardon, My Lady. Lady Brienne says you sent for me?" Grethel's soft voice called softlly from the entryway, causing Sandor and myself to move away from each other.
"Good evening, Grethel. I have need of you. More precisely, our little Rory here, has need of you." I answered as cheerfully as I could muster while my heart was beating much too fast inside me, I felt faint.
"By the Gods, My Lady!" Grethel exclaimed once she caught a look at the child I held and walked towards me.
"He's still asleep, but I have no doubt he'll be hungry soon." I answered her with a smile, as my pulse and breath began to regulate.
"He is very young, he is. Can't be more than two moons old." She said, holding out her arms for the baby, looking between myself and Sandor with uncertainty.
"Indeed. Thirty-eight days, to be exact." Sandor answered her and I quickly did the math in my head.
There had only been eleven moon turns since the end of the war, which told me he'd fathered the child just before the end of it. I tried to picture just how cold and presumably lonely the nights must have been while they fought north of the wall. If he ever had a night off from fighting the dead, it was no wonder he sought the company of a woman.
There weren't many women fighting north of the wall, with the exception of Queen Danaerys who only had eyes for Jon, and a handful of wildling woman. That pretty much told me all I needed to know about the child's mother. Sandor may have been from the south, but he bravely faught for the North and decided to remain here. Sandor's son is of the North, and thus, he would be raised as such. Rory Clegane would be raised with all the honors granted to the children of the Great War soldiers.
"That's good to know. I shall mark the date down and alert the maester to register his name and birthdate tomorrow morning. Grethel, would you please see that the child is bathed and clothed warmly? Brienne, I'll need for you to please let Maylin know that I shall require some linens and skins for the babe to be set up in Arya's old chamber. Sandor, I shall need your help to fetch Rickon's old crib from the storage chambers."
"My Lady, I can ask the steward to fetch it." Sandor told me, but I shook my head at him with a smile.
"No, I shall go and see what else Rory may need. I think I would be like a visit with my family's old things. Will you come with me?" I asked him, knowing he wasn't likely to deny me.
"Of course, My Lady." He answered aloud, but I was sure I heard him whisper "anywhere" under his breath, which made me smile.
"Perfect. Then, lets away." I responded, already walking towards the hallway with him just behind me.
A/N: Sandor is torn between two promises... to uphold never to lie to Sansa, and still uphold his word to Arya. It seems Sansa's assumption and misunderstanding created the best loophole for Sandor... for the time being.
