Sansa

Sansa screamed, as she pushed with all her might for what she hoped would be the last time. Her first child had been born, but she didn't have the energy to even look before the pain began yet again. Everything was wound up in a coil of pain and agony. Suddenly, she felt the second baby leave her body, and the pain faded. She collapsed onto the bed, so exhausted she thought she'd never move again. Then she heard the thin wailing of a baby, her baby. "Are they…?" she asked, wiping her sweaty hair out of her face.

The maester wrapped her second baby in a blanket, but she couldn't see much else from where she was. Sansa watched as she was handed one of her precious newborns, wet and wailing at her. "Is he okay?" she asked the room at large, before returning her eyes to her wondrous baby. She saw a wet nurse holding the first and she felt a wave of jealousy before realising that she couldn't hold both at the same time.

"You have a boy and a girl," someone said. Sansa opened the blanket to look at her child, and saw that she held her daughter. She supposed it would be helpful to have two boys, but she couldn't be disappointed in her gorgeous daughter with a mess of blonde fuzz on her head, so pretty now that she'd stopped crying. "Tyrion will want to see them," she said.

"My lady, we should tidy you up a bit first…"

"Send for Tyrion now!" At the moment, she was mistress of Casterly Rock. They'd do as she asked, which was apparent as the maids started scrambling around her chamber.

Sansa loosened her robe, or what was left of it, still hanging onto her body, and fed her daughter. It seemed the most natural thing in the world, and her little girl latched on to her breast as if starved. She was glad her daughter knew what to do, because she certainly wasn't sure. Sansa smiled at her daughter, feeling the world alight with new possibility. Her son had been put in a rocker and started wimpering, working up to a full blown cry.

Sansa suddenly realised that for the foreseeable future, she was going to have her hands very full indeed.

Tyrion

He raced as quickly as his stunted legs could carry him into the birthing chamber. It smelled like blood and death, he thought uncomfortably. No one had told him what had happened, just that it was over. He took a moment to brace himself, before pushing the door open. The first thing he saw was Sansa sitting up in bed, and he felt a knot in his stomach loosen. She was okay then. Their twins? "Are you…? And the children okay?" he dared to ask. Even if one of their children was a dwarf, he couldn't face losing him.

"We're all fine," she said, nodding to the rocker in the corner. Tyrion looked at the baby she held, watching him with wide blue eyes and an open mouth. "A boy and a girl. That's your son in the crib." He reached over to pick up the baby, who was heavier than he expected. No sign of dwarfism either, he thought, feeling a rush of relief. He personally wouldn't have cared, but he wouldn't wish that kind of ridicule and laughter he'd experienced all his life on any child.

He walked to the bed, seeing that Sansa was watching their daughter avidly. Tyrion hopped up onto the bed in an ungainly manner, and sat next to his wife who wasn't even looking at him. She only had eyes for their children, every now and then, her eyes going to her son. He looked at their girl and smiled. Only a few minutes old, maybe half an hour, but she was beautiful.

"Can I… hold her?" he asked, and he felt the rush of protectiveness he never thought he'd feel for this new life. Tyrion put their son down on the bed gently, as Sansa looked at him for a moment before kissing their daughters forehead and carefully handing her over. She picked up their boy, seeing the mirror of her daughters face there. Right down to the blonde messy hair.

"Hello there," he said gently to his daughter. Her blue eyes were so wide and confused, but looking at him intently. "Well, you're just beautiful aren't you? She's as beautiful as her mother." Sansa fell against the pillows with a wry smile on her face.

"I don't feel beautiful right now. More like I've been torn in two."

"Are you okay?" he asked, keeping hold of the baby, but looking at her in concern.

"I think I'll recover," she said quietly.

"What do you want to name them?" he asked.

"I thought that was your responsibility," she said. "Tradition…"

"I want you to name them," Tyrion said firmly. "I don't care about tradition."

Sansa smiled such a beautiful smile at him that his heart stopped for a moment. "I thought… Catelyn. But then I wondered if that was too morbid for her. She's so beautifully innocent, I'm not sure if naming her after her murdered grandmother would be right. But I like Maeri too."

"As much as you love your mother, she did try to have me murdered," he reminded her. Sansa smiled slightly, not finding the memory as painful as she expected. Tyrion ventured further, treading gently as this might not be a good subject of conversation. "I thought… the boy, we could name him Robb."

"Your family will hate that," she said.

"I don't care what they think." She smiled again, before leaning over him and kissing him gently. He responded, he couldn't help it, even with a baby in his arms. The newborn squealed in protest at being a little squashed as Sansa drew close.

"I think Robb might be suitable," she said. "Especially if he ends up ruling the north. Appropriate, all things considered."

"Your brother… it was indecent," he said. "My family had a part in it, and I'm sorry. At least had he died in battle, it would have been more dignified."

"Yes," she said. "Tyrion, I know it wasn't your fault. I also know you wouldn't have minded to see him dead, but you wouldn't have done it like that."

"No, I wouldn't," Tyrion agreed. "So, Robb and Maeri?"

"I like that," Sansa said. "It seems right." He smiled at her, glad they were thinking the same thing. "I need to sleep," she announced. "Can you put them in the crib?" He nodded, and did so. By the time he'd put them down, Sansa had fallen asleep very quickly. He couldn't blame her, she must be exhausted.

He looked at her, then watched his children. "You are just precious," he said. "I can't believe how lucky I am. I never thought I'd have this, as deformed as I am. I didn't think I'd ever have a proper wife, or a legitimate child. Let alone two. You're going to be very important. Do you know, you might just have a wonderful life, between here, Winterfell and Kings Landing. And as hard as it might be, I'll do all I can to protect you. My beautiful daughter and my handsome boy."

Soon, he had to leave. After all, there were important letters to write, to spread the news of his newborn children. But he'd watch his family for just a few more minutes.

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