A heavy silence followed Sansa's words. It was undoubtedly a short pause but it seemed to her to last an eternity.
"What did you say?" His rasp came out flat, uncertain.
She shut her eyes tightly and spoke again. "I am with child, Sandor."
His hands tightened on her shoulders. "How is that possible?" he growled. "You said you were taking the bloody tea."
"I was, Sandor, but it was not the tea from the old woman in the Neck. I- I spilled most of it and so I mixed in the leaves from the other pouches we bought but I fear it was not as strong…" She looked up at him now. "I never broke my promise to you Sandor; not intentionally."
His face was stony, his eyes hard. "And you never thought to tell me this? Gods, I should have stopped you, and myself when I first told you it was dangerous for us to continue. If we had not lain together after I returned wounded this never would have happened." He took his hands from her shoulders suddenly and passed one great palm over his face. "Do you know what you've done, girl?" he rasped accusingly. "You've brought a child into this. You and your brother are not secure; and even if we do rid the North of the Boltons and Freys we must then deal with the rest of Westeros. You were supposed to make an alliance." He put a closed fist to his forehead in frustration and anger. "Seven buggering hells: we both have a price on our heads. It's not just us who will suffer now; can you imagine what they will do to a child of ours? Look at me!" he raged. "Monsters do not spare children or even babes."
Sansa shook her head pleadingly. "I would undo it all if it were possible, Sandor; but the maester had no means of helping me and you know what happened to the girl I took in. I know our lives are not safe and our position is not secure, but I cannot risk my life when I have promised Rickon that I would not leave him. I must stay with him and continue to do everything I can for the North, as long as I am able. You must understand."
"The North is it? And how do you think your bannermen will like my getting a bastard off you? Might be they'll have my head before any of our would-be kings or queens will. You were supposed to play the honourable Stark maiden for their loyalty, and get an alliance through marriage: you even agreed to that…and now we're both expendable," he spat bitterly.
Sandor turned away and walked towards the hearth where he stopped and braced his hands against the mantle with his back to her. Sansa followed haltingly and held her hands tightly together to keep herself from reaching out to touch him as she wished to do. She could hear his breath heaving furiously.
"I know how much I have disappointed you, Sandor; and I know how very badly I have failed my people in thinking only of my own heart…but I- I could not stop wanting you. I love-"
"Still a little bird with your head full of songs," he rasped dejectedly.
Sansa stood tall now and squared her shoulders. "I am not that anymore. I have not been for some time and you know that well," she told him firmly though her voice still shook from emotion. "My love for you is real, Sandor, it is not a song or a story. I had to lose almost everything and suffer a great deal to realize that, and so you must believe me when I tell you that it breaks my heart…it kills me to know that I have in failed you in any way or betrayed your trust," she continued hoarsely as her throat constricted from hurt and sadness.
Sandor continued to stare into the fire. When he did not reply to her, she spoke again.
"I know that you cannot forgive me. I know that you will leave me…and I understand, Sandor. I know this is not what you wanted, you have told me many times. I will not blame you…or hate you for leaving, I never could. I'll always love you, Sandor," she reached to stroke his back but pulled her hand away and instinctively pulled it back to clutch her throat. "And though I will mourn your leaving and miss you every day, I will be happy to have some part of you with me always. I will love our child so much, Sandor. I will give it all the love you should have had as a boy…and I will speak well of you to him or her and tell of your great and gentle heart, and how big and strong you were and how brave-"
"Brave," he growled disparagingly. "How brave would I be if I ran off and left a woman with my child in her belly? You think that's brave? Seven fucking hells," he swore and turned back to her, his chest heaving as he sighed, looking defeated.
"I only wanted what was best for you, girl, even if it wasn't me…." He looked at her momentarily with regret in his grey eyes before setting his jaw with determination. He took a step closer to her. "But you're stuck with me now, girl," he nodded grimly towards her belly. "We'll see this through; even if we all die together. I swore to protect you, little bird; now I swear to protect you and our little wolf…or dog…whatever the little pup turns out to be."
Sansa's eyes had widened in surprise and she felt certain that she had misunderstood, though her heart had stopped seizing and she felt that she might breathe again.
"Sandor?" She sniffled shakily. "You'll stay? You'll stay in Winterfell?"
"I'll stay, and I'll fight. We have to win now, little bird, if we are to live, and you will need all the help I can give you…if you'll let me and your Northerners will let me. We'll win our cause…our die trying: those are the only choices we have now."
Sansa breathed in a great gulp of air and shook her head as though to clear it, before smiling gently at last even as her tears coursed down her cheeks.
"Oh Sandor…" she whispered, her heart so full of love and gratitude that she felt lightheaded and found that she had not the words to tell him what a profoundly generous gift he had just given her. "Thank you," was all she could say.
He looked down on her grimly. "This won't be easy, little bird; many won't like this or even accept it."
"I don't care, Sandor," she insisted passionately, "it's you I care about-"
"You might care soon enough. Might be I don't wake up one morning once everyone sees your belly and knows it's me who ruined you. Might be I ride off to battle and never come back, and who's to say then who did for me? You may end up on your own, little bird, and without protection. Better hope someone here cares what happens to you if I'm gone," he reasoned darkly.
Despite his grim words, Sansa was overwhelmed that Sandor would chose to stay with her when he was seemingly convinced that he would die for it, and that his concern would still be for her. She had thought that she would lose him and now he was giving more than she ever had hoped. She wanted to go to him, to touch him but she was uncertain if he would want it.
His eyes darted to her middle again. "What did the maester say…about your…condition?" he asked carefully.
Sansa shook her head again. "He does not know; I only asked about the dead girl and what might have been done for her. That is how I know he could not have helped me to…" she paused.
"And if he could have?" Sandor prompted her.
Sansa looked into his eyes and told him the truth. "I- I don't know, Sandor. I did not want to disappoint you, or break my promise to you."
They stood in silence again for a moment, neither knowing what to do next.
"I'm very grateful, Sandor," she began again, "for all you have done, and are willing to do for me. Please know that I love you for it, and always will," her voice was thick and whispery again. She ducked her head as her tears started again.
"Clegane? Sansa?"" The Blackfish stood in the door of the solar. "Is there something the matter?" he asked in his smokey voice. He walked into the room with his eyes on Sansa, though she looked up to Sandor for guidance.
Sandor glanced down at his boots and the back to her. "Best you tell him now, get it over with. He's your family, girl," he advised somewhat sourly.
The Blackfish looked from Sandor back to Sansa. "What is it you needs tell me, child? Are you ill?"
Instinctively, she reached her hand out to Sandor and before she could pull it back, he had taken it and held it tightly. She found her courage then.
"Great-uncle Brynden," she took a deep breath. "I am with child."
The Blackfish turned immediately to Sandor. "Yours, I have no doubt," he pronounced flatly. "Did we not have enough to concern ourselves with? Well, it's done clearly. Rickon is a child, so you'll answer to me: and what do you intend to do about this?" His Tully blue eyes were hard as stones under his thick grey brows and he looked the formidable knight he was. Sansa feared that Sandor may have been right about her lords' acceptance.
"I intend to see it through," Sandor pronounced defiantly. "I will stay and protect your lady and mine, and I will fight for the North as I have pledged to do. Nothing has changed," he rasped.
"Tell it to her maid when her gowns no longer fit her," the Blackfish waved his hand towards Sansa, "and to the maester when she takes to the birthing chamber. She is carrying your child and soon all of Winterfell and the North will know it. I ask again, Clegane: what is it you intend for my great-niece?"
Sandor grew impatient. "What would you have me do, then? She is wed to another. Much as I'd like to kill him myself and make her a widow-"
"The heart tree," Sansa exclaimed. Lord Umber had told her to marry before the heart tree, as a Northern lady.
"What is that you said, child?" the Blackfish asked her patiently.
"Lord Umber told me the new gods had no place in the North, and that I should marry before a heart tree," she told them.
"You were married in a sept, child, in the eyes of the Faith-"
"I was forced," Sansa insisted vehemently. "They only wanted my claim. And he was never my husband; I was never his wife, though he wrapped me in red and gold-" she stopped suddenly and looked up at Sandor wide-eyed. "Your cloak," she told him.
"What of my cloak, little bird?" He seemed confused and concerned by her change of topic.
"You gave me your cloak, Sandor: in King's Landing. You swore to keep me safe and…you lay on my bed with me…the night of the Blackwater. All this before I was forced to marry in the sept. Sandor, in the eyes of the old gods we are as good as married: that is all that is required. Therefore it is my marriage to- it is my second marriage that is not valid."
"Seven hells, little bird," Sandor breathed uneasily. Sansa knew that his time on the Quiet Isle had made him respectful of the faith; at least of the brown brothers who had taken him in and saved his life. The Elder Brother had been kind and treated him with simple dignity and patience; he had treated him as a man, and not a Hound. She knew that Sandor had not forgotten, nor would he. He shifted and looked about the solar before speaking again. "Will this be legitimate?"
The Blackfish snorted shortly. "That concerns you now, does it?"
"This is not about me," Sandor snarled. "I would give her and the babe my name as well as my protection. Might be it'll make it easier for them all to stand, but bugger them if it don't."
"Will you speak those same heartfelt vows in the godswood," the Blackfish asked archly.
"Great-uncle, please," Sansa begged softly. "Sandor Clegane has offered to make me his wife before the old gods," she looked up into Sandor's eyes now, "and I would accept him with all my heart."
Sandor looked down on her and squeezed her hand again. "Well do what's right, little bird; but he's got to consent: he's your family."
The Blackfish put his hand on Sansa's shoulder and turned her to him. "Is this truly what you want, child? I will stand by you if it is, but it is not my decision but in fact Rickon's as the heir to Winterfell. I think we needs inform him. Though I have no doubt he will consent." He turned his head to Sandor. "You have been good to the boy," he relented gracefully, "and he would be pleased to call you brother."
Sandor seemed to calm somewhat at this semblance of a truce and nodded his head respectfully.
"I'll fetch the boy then," he rasped and left the solar.
Sansa suddenly felt overwrought. "I- forgive me, great-uncle, but I needs sit down…" she mumbled weakly.
The Blackfish acted swiftly, and brought the only chair in the solar to her so that she might sit by the hearth. After murmuring her thanks, she looked up to see with studying her under those heavy grey brows.
"Please, great-uncle, so not look upon me so harshly. I know I have done wrong; and that I should be ashamed-"
"Do you love him child? Is this truly what you want?" he asked her concernedly. "I have long suspected that you cared for him but thought it might be a passing fancy," he continued. "You are still young."
Sansa hesitated. "It is what I want, what I have wanted for some time, great-uncle, only…not like this," she looked up to him now. "I promised Sandor that I would not let this happen." She flushed as she confessed now. "I have been drinking moon tea but I- I did something wrong; it was not strong enough to prevent… I only wish I knew that this is truly what he wanted, but I fear that it is not." She bit her lip at what she was about to say. "Sandor Clegane is being honourable." She looked up at him sadly. "And I shall be grateful to him and love him for all my days; but I wonder if he will ever truly trust me again."
The Blackfish heaved a sigh. "There will be time later to worry about that, Sansa. However we have far more pressing matters to concern ourselves with now. We wait for word from White Harbor, but we will march very soon: before the next turn of the moon I'll wager. And then will know if the North is won, and then our fight continues to the south; or if all is lost." He paused before leaning closer. "I want you to go to Bear Island, Sansa. The Mormonts' people will protect you, as the wildlings will protect Rickon; and from there you may reach the wall and the protection of Jon and Stannis…if we should fail."
Sansa raised her head. "I will not leave Winterfell, great-uncle. I will die here if I must. I have already made Osha swear to have me buried in the crypt if aught should happen to me when you are gone. This is also what I want," she told him with finality: the Lady of Winterfell. She clasped her hands in her lap now, and waited for Sandor to bring Rickon.
AN: I feel it necessary to stress that what I have written about contraception and abortion is in no way meant to be part of any social/moral/religious/political stance or agenda. It is simply part of a story set in a medieval-ish fantasy world and means to reflect the reality of the time and the circumstances of the characters in the story. I could easily have glossed them over and not dealt with them but then there would have been no story to tell.