Sandor was pacing the corridor outside Sansa's room, every once and a while a maid would scurry out with wet pink towels and scurry back in with buckets and clean linen. He fought the urge to run into her chambers, it had been four hours since she had him fetch the maester, three hours since the Prince went out on a hunt, like his father had during his own birth, Lord Stark had taken Arya and Bran to the market to get Sansa gifts for the baby, the Queen awaited news in her solar and Lady Stark was inside helping her daughter.

Sandor kicked the wall, he wanted to be inside, holding his Little Birds hand as she gave birth to their child. It was their child, he could feel it in his bones, he felt it the first moment he pressed his hand against her belly, a little spark of life calling out to him. How men that fought in battle could not face the birth of their own child was beyond him, he stood outside the door waiting for the news. Sansa did not scream as Cersei had during her labors, it was eerily quite save for the shuffling and barking of orders that occasionally pierced through the stone wall.

He let his forehead rest against the cool stone, sending his strength through the grey dense wall to his little woman, willing whatever pain she felt onto himself. A piercing cry caused him to jerk his head up, his eyes snapped open. It was the babe! The babe was crying! He stormed into the room before he could think.

"Hound! You cannot be in here!" A Septa tried to block his path, he stepped around her with hardly a glance.

Sansa was laying propped up on her bed, a dark haired babe at her breast.

"Now Princess," the Maester was trying to pull the child from her arms. "We have a wet nurse ready for your babe."

"I will feed my child, thank you very much." Sansa slapped his hands away, being rude for perhaps the first time of her life.

"It is unseemly. What will the Prince say." the Maester reached for the child again. Lady Stark made a noise like an angry cat and opened her mouth to finally intervene but Sandor beat her to it.

"Get your bloody hands of the babe or I'll rip them off and beat you to fucking death with them."

The Maester looked up at the Hound, eyes wide as he tried to sputter a reply.

"Clegane!" Lady Stark yelled in surprise. "What are you doing in here?"

"Sandor!" Sansa smiled tiredly, "Look you have a new charge."

"Sansa!" her mother admonished, fussing with the furs on the bed to cover her naked breast. "He has no business being here."

"I am charged with protecting the Princess. She is distressed."

"Mother, I asked him to be here. I had a feeling they would try and force these silly southern traditions on to me." she grinned at him. "No one dares argue with the Hound. Isn't that right?" she looked to the maester.

The old man grumbled and picked up his equipment, "The Prince will be upset but.." he looked at Sansa, who was no longer looking at him but gazing lovingly down at the child in her arms. "I suppose having a son and heir may sway his way of thinking." he looked at the Hound and gave a small smile, "A loving mother she will be."

Sandor did not smile but nodded his agreement at the man. "You will leave her be. She will make the decisions for her own child."

"Oh yes." the master agreed. "Truth is I'm more frightened of her grace than you." and with that last jape he exited the room.

"Come and see him." Sansa had removed the child from her breast.

"Sansa, Clegane the two of you are impossible. This is highly improper." Lady Stark had her hands on her hips, eyeing them both suspiciously.

"Just a quick look Mother, he waited outside the door to do his duty, is it not a little proper to give him a peek at my achievement?"

Sandor did not wait for Lady Starks approval, he stepped to the the mother and child and looked down at the babe. The child was a boy, dark black hair and pale skin, his eyes as they blinked up at him were blue tinted silver.

Sandor felt his throat close up with emotion. Swallowing hard he rasped, "You made a fine son, your Grace."

"Yes, he looks like a Northern man, does he not." she smiled at him knowingly.

"Aye." he agreed with a grin. "I will let the Queen know she has a grandson." he refrained from touching his son and Sansa but just barely. "I will come back and be outside should you need me."

"Thank you," Sansa grinned at him then looked down at the babe cooing happily while Catelyn gave him a shrewd look.

XXXXXXXXXXX

It had been a long day of standing. First the Queen visited her grandson, then Lord Stark and the children. Lord Stark looked both relieved and excited to hear his daughter and grandson were both well.

Arya and Bran played with wooden swords while their father and mother visited with Sansa.

"I suppose you think a woman shouldn't play with swords." Arya scowled at him as he watched their game. Neither was trying to best the other.

"I could give a fuck." he rasped back at her. The girl would have a hard time of it when she was betrothed.

"humph," she suppressed a grin. "Father is giving me lessons and," she glanced at him, "he has promised not to marry me off to a stupid sod who cannot handle a woman with a sword." Damn little wolf bitch was a mind reader.

"Arya!" Bran let his guard down to admonish his sister and got a whack in the side for it.

Sandor chuckled, "He'll be hard pressed to find a man who wont mind."

Arya shrugged as both her and Bran settled themselves down on a bench to wait.

Joffery and the King were the last to show. The Prince strutting about as if he'd been the one who gave birth to the babe. "He'd be much more handsome if he had my coloring." he sneered at Sandor, "but he is big and strong. It won't be an embarrassment for him to carry my name."

So the child was named Joffery the Second, Sansa however called him Ric more often than not, claiming his wild nature reminded him of her little brother back home.

6 Weeks Later

"Joffery will be back in my bed soon." his Little Bird laid her head against his bare chest.

They had made love with their babe sleeping peacefully in the crib nearby. Sandor closed his eyes, he could remember with painful clarity how hard it was for her to sleep with the Prince that first night, how hard it was for both of them.

He had stood outside her door his fist balled up so tight his nails cut into his palms leaving little puddles of blood by the wall where he stood waiting for the blasted Prince to leave. Trant was guarding the door and Sandor waited impatiently in the secret passage for his time alone with his Little Bird. He did his best not to listen, only the muffled sounds of Joffery's voice making it's way to him now and again until finally he hear Sansa's shaky voice,

"Sandor," she sniffed. He jumped at the sound of his name, pushing through the secret door to find his lovely little girl scrubbing between her thighs furiously.

"Help me!" she looked up at him piteously with watery blue eyes.

He wasted no time except to make sure that both the outer room and her bed chamber door were bolted. Gathering her trembling form into his arms he reached into her with two fingers and scooped out as much of the Princes seed as he could and then cleaning her with a cloth. They repeated this until Sansa said it was enough.

"I don't think there is anything else we can do." she slumped into his arms and cried.

"I'll kill him." he held her sobbing body against his. "We'll run away and I'll kill anyone that tries to stop us."

"We can't." she whispered, "you know we can't." sitting up and taking a deep breath she finally looked him dead in the eye. "I can do this, WE can do this. Every time he comes to me we will wash away his seed and you will make me forget. Please Sandor, make me forget."

Their love-making that night had been rough and almost violent. Sansa had left scratch marks down his back and he left his own marks on her, sniggering when later Joffery took credit for the bruises on her hips and wrists.

"Sandor," his Little Bird brought her back to the present. "He is determined to have a child that looks like him." she huffed.

"It would be for the best." he growled unhappily. "but I will not stop coming to your bed."

Sansa grinned up at him. "Mother is suspicious of us. I'm only glad they will be leaving in a few weeks or else she would not be fooled for long."

"Ay," he agreed. "Your mother is no fool."

"No," Sansa sighed. "She asked me not to let King's Landing corrupt me. It wasn't a promise I could make."

Sandor shifted to look at her worriedly "What did you say?"

"The truth, that King's Landing was a vipers nest and I learned there was none I could trust, nothing was as it seemed. Corruption was inevitable."

"And?"

"She asked if I trusted you,"

Sandor's eyes bore into her, "What was your answer?"

"Again the truth - yes."

"Sansa, that does not bloody help shift her damned suspicion."

"There is no shifting her suspicion." Sansa huffed, "but now she knows to be careful as well."

Sandor raised as eyebrow, "The Little Bird is learning."

"I've been paying attention."