He says more than one...It would explain why I am so big. The pains seize me once more. The big red haired man washes his hands and his wife, small, with dark hair and eyes gently washes my belly. Sandor is behind me supporting my back. The dark woman offers me a bit of twisted leather and places it between my teeth. It has a bitter taste that lulls me into a sense of calm. I feel disjointed and floating.

My legs are placed together. Anjelae holds them firmly, sweet Sandor holds my shoulders as well.

The red haired man says, " Your Grace, it is important you are still, my hand is steady but thrashing could cause the cut to stray and hurt either you or the children. "

Children, I have more than one I reflect in my floating state. I watch him lower a small bright knife to my belly and lose sight of it once he nears the underside of it. Another pain seizes my form and with a flick I am opened and quick I feel a tugging and hear a squall from a new Clegane. The child is passed of to his wife who passes it to an another for cleaning. Another tug and I hear another cry of a healthy child.

The wife removes the leather from my slack mouth, I feel sleepy and want badly to drowse and curse myself for this state, I am giving birth ! The least I can do is remain awake and aware for it ! It is my last thought as a wicked sleep takes me.

I awake groggy with a thick, dry tongue. I try to move and I am frozen in place by a searing pain on my lower belly. I feel fingers like iron about my shoulders and my daughters voice say gently, " Peace mother, father will be sent for. "

Sent for ? Why is he not here with me now ?! I think bitterly to myself.

In a few minutes I hear the sound of someone running shod in boots come up the stairs. He bursts into the room with a look of the wild in his eye. He stops short of the bed and eases his bulk onto it gingerly and takes my hand to place kisses upon it, his eyes are misty as he strokes my face gently.

" I thought you were lost to me, my wife. " " I have had our children cut from me, I was tired and sleeping, no where near dead, husband. "

" Sleeping for three days, mother ", from Anjelae.

" Three days ?! " I say with some alarm. " Yes, father left your side only to relieve himself and eat, one of us has always been here. As we speak Suozahn is returning from Winterfell with Catey and son Sandor, the Southern Queen also journeys here with Ned. "

" Where are my babies ? "

The first they bring me is a big healthy boy. He is the size of Ned at two months. He has a mass of coppery hair and is sleeping swaddled in his blanket. " I would name him Barriston ", and say so to Sandor who smiles and nods. The next child brought to me is a small girl, she has my Sandor's dark locks with a reddish cast and a sweet face and I look to Sandor and he says, " Daenerys. "

I am still very tired and want to go back to sleep, it is not to be as I wish to feed my babies and do so. The in comes Maeri with a tray of food stuffs. My stomach does feel hollow so I stay awake for a short time to eat. Sleep threatens to take me as I start to drowse, the tray is removed and all but Sandor leaves. He brushes the hair from my eyes and kisses my softly. I hear him disrobe and feel him slide into bed beside me. I want to roll to him but my belly is still painful. He scoots near me and places a hand on my shoulder. That is my last thought as sleep takes me.

I awake in the morn to the cry of my babies. I rise up slowly on my elbows and push down the covers to inspect my cut. It is still very tender but I notice with relief the stitches are small and neat. Sandor rises to collect the babies but before he does so he piles pillows behind my back to help support me. He dresses and says he will soon return.

I look at Barriston. He is well formed and large. A gentle knock on the door and Anjelae enters with two people who are vaguely familiar. I learn they are Angys and his wife and assistant Dae'Joy. I thank them and say also I owe you our lives. They both blush deeply. I ask him what he does and he says, " I'm a Shepard your grace. "

" You have a way with babies, the Maester of this Keep knew not what to do yet you did. " " I would have someone in every village know this method of child birth. " " I would like if you could go to the people and teach this. " " As you wish your Grace ", says he with wide eyes. His wife gives him a reassuring squeeze of his arm.

Sandor returns with Maerii in tow with another tray of foods.

" Your Grace, I would see the stitches if I may ", from Dae'Joy. I push down the covers once more, her touches are gently and self assured and practiced. " You heal well ", she announces with a broad smile. " You must not lift anything for two cycles of the moon, your Grace. " " You may have relations with your husband in one cycle ", she says with a blush. " But he must not lay...Atop you. "

" That is good to know ", and I wink and smile.

Sandor presents them coin for services rendered. He also informs them they are to be given five horse. Four mounts and one pack, all fleet of hoof to better expedite him getting to people in need. Sandor then hands him a wooden box. Angys opens it to find a blade. Ornate of grip and cross guard. Very sharp and the light glints off it's blade. It is given to those who perform feats of heroism or in thanks to those who perform a great service. On one side is the Stark Direwolf on the reverse Sandor's great helm.

" Thank you, your Graces', you honor us so ", they both say with wide eyes.

I am pleased I have given birth to not only one but two more Cleganes. Sandor eases onto the bed and cups my face in his hands. I shed tears of joy to know I have survived and brought my husband more children. He brushes the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs and places tender kisses on my face, so soft, like the kiss of a baby's breath.

He rises and goes to the dressing table and retrieves a brush. With slow measured strokes does he brush the tangles from my hair. It is a guilty pleasure we both enjoy. We have some of our most meaningful discussions as he does this. I can remember a time years ago one of our talks about how best to serve the needs of the people and Land of Westeros...

There is no ache in my muscles anymore after each days practice. I defend and attack with multiple weapons as if it is second nature to me. I now most times can judge correctly what an opponent will do by watching his or her body language and eyes.

I am in the practice yard now with Dany and Suozahn. My opponent this day is a pale man with milky blue eyes, the shade of a blue pennant left long in the sun. His hair is an inky black and cropped close to his skull, his skin a pale as mine own. His eyes show me nothing as he attacks with a spear, it's point not the bright silver of worked metal but a murky grey.

He slashes, I parry, he jabs and I again deflect his spear point. It glances off my sword and nicks the shoulder of one close behind me, locked in a mock battle of his own. He stiffens and sinks to the ground slowly to lay boneless for a moment. Then a fit seizes him and thrashes about like a fish out of water. His mouth foams and clots of it fling about as he thrashes to and fro.

Before I can think I lash out and cleave my opponents head from his shoulders in one swift motion. A look of surprise seems to dance on his face as his shorn head tumbles from his body and hits the dirt of the yard before rolling to a stop. His eyes still open and seeming to throw an accusatory glance towards me even in death.

I bend to wipe the spittle from my boot and I am seized by the strong arms of Balerus who shakes his head and says, " Do NOT touch it ! " , " Your Grace we know not what type of poison it is. "

The man nicked by the spear arches his back at what seems to be an impossible arch until his spine emits a loud crack of sound. His legs remain motionless except for the thrashing of his arms that cause them to twitch and shake, his face contorts into a mask pain and his eyes bulge and he sheds tears of blood form his eyes, nose, mouth and ears. There is an unmistakable stench of his bowels that are loosed in his death throes.

I hear the familiar steps of Sandor as he gains my side. Tyrion, Ser Barriston and our new Maester an aged man bent by time and worry named Lowrenn also approach.

Lorwrenn bends to the first dead man and produces a pair of thin leather gloves and tongs. From another pocket of his grey robe a small glass vial and a flat piece of wood. He scoops some of the foam with the wood and smears its contents into the vial. With the tongs he pulls on the mans lower lip and opens his mouth to peer inside. He turns the dead man's head to the side and a bright red foam issues forth along with gout's of congealed blood.

He instructs the spear be taken carefully to his work room. He goes to the man whom I beheaded and strips him of his clothes. He investigates him thoroughly before he peers at his head. He uses his tongs to pull on his lips and turn it about. His bushy eyebrows creep up his forehead as he finds something of note...